


Magic Spells in Modern Times

by kaci3PO



Category: Ghostfacers - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaci3PO/pseuds/kaci3PO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry thought it would be cool to have a ghost team member, and Ed agreed because he wanted to see Corbett again. Why, he's never figured out, because there's no closure to be had on something like what happened that night in Daggett's basement, but he knew he wanted to see him all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ed's the one who goes to Corbett's house. The others offer to come of course, but Spruce and Harry don't really mean their offers and Ed can't face Maggie after what happened in the Morton house.

So he goes alone on a rainy Saturday two weeks after Corbett's death. The house is on the far side of town and he drives the van over to the stately manor that Corbett called home.

He knocks on the door and is greeted by a young man about his own age, clearly a servant. He wonders if Corbett ever ordered the guy to suck him off and then hates himself for that gut reaction.

"Can I help you?" the man asks politely. His hair is perfectly combed and Ed feels scruffy and unkempt.

"I'm here to see Mr. and Mrs. Corbett," Ed says. He's proud that his voice comes out only a little faltering.

The man stares at him for a long moment, sizing him up, and Ed finally blurts out, "I knew their son. Cor—Alan."

He hasn't called Corbett by his first name in so long that it sounds foreign on his tongue. But it gets a raised eyebrow from the man and a motion to follow him inside.

He doesn't let himself look at the walls as they journey down a long hallway. He's sure that a family like the Corbetts would have a lot of family photos around and he doesn't want to see pictures of the child who'd grow up into the man he saw die over and over again.

He's finally lead into a room where a thin, pale woman is sitting with a cup of tea in her lap. Her gaze is fixed out the window and it's only when the man clears his throat that she looks up and realizes they're there.

"Yes, Bradley?" she asks distractedly, and for the first time, Ed realizes that the man, Bradley, seems nervous.

"Ma'am," he says. "This is—"

"Ed," Ed supplies helpfully. "Ed Zeddmore."

He might not've noticed if he hadn't been staring at her so unfalteringly, but he is so he sees. The woman's eyes widen the tiniest fraction and Ed knows in that instant that she knows that name.

"Yes," Bradley says, slightly unsettled that he let Ed in without getting his name. "Ed Zeddmore. He says he knew—he knew Alan."

"Yes," she says idly. "Yes. Please, sit down."

Another pause, then Ed realizes she's speaking to him. He takes a seat across from her and wipes his sweaty hands on his knees. Her eyes are fixed on him now, focused in a way they never were until he said his name. He swallows roughly while she motions for Bradley to leave the room, then he opens his mouth to speak.

"Is your husband here? I was hoping to talk to him, too."

"He's working," she says. "There was a problem at the office and he was eager to get back to work for a sense of normality."

Ed nods, even though he's pretty sure normalcy is out of reach now, at least for him.

"I guess I'll just talk to you, then," he says. He swallows and stares down at his hands. "I came here because I knew Alan."

"He talked about you a lot," she says softly. "Ed Zeddmore. Of all his boyfriends, I think I liked you the best, even though we never met."

Ed blinks. He blinks again. "Boyfriend?"

"It's okay," she says. "I know you're still in the closet, but you don't have to worry. Alan wasn't and we won't tell anyone." She gives him a small smile and his stomach turns over.

He can't tell her they weren't together. Her son is dead, rebar through the neck, and it's only been two weeks since Ed begged Corbett to stop dying. He can't retcon her son's life now. He won't.

"Thanks," he says, and the lie comes out too easy for words.

"I asked him several times to invite you over," she says. "We'd have loved to have you over for dinner or to parties. But Alan said you weren't comfortable with being out in public."

Ed thinks he's never heard of a more perfect excuse and it raises Corbett higher in his esteem.

"Yeah," he says. "But he—he was great. I wanted to come here and tell you that. Alan was the bravest person I knew." He almost adds _even in death_ to that, but manages to refrain.

She nods sadly and takes a tissue from a box on the table between them. "He was," she agrees. "I always admired him for being exactly who he was."

They're talking about two different things entirely and only Ed knows that they are.

"He cared a lot about you," she says, and now he hears the tears in her voice. "I think he maybe even loved you."

And for a long moment, Ed doesn't know what to say. Then he remembers the lie he told two weeks ago, the lie that tore him up inside to tell. And he pushes past the feeling of clawing and aching in his chest and says it one more time.

"I loved Alan, too."

She nods and reaches across the table to take his hand.

"It means so much to me that he had someone," she says tearfully. "You have no idea, Ed."

He does. God, he does. And he knows, with sharp and painful clarity, that this is his one way ticket to Hell: letting a grieving mother think that her son died loved when he knows perfectly, horrifyingly well that he died scared and alone.

"I have to go," he says, choked and wrecked.

"Oh," she says, a little disappointed. "Well—maybe you could come back sometime?"

He stares at her, terrified. "What?"

"He—you know him better than we do," she says, like it kills her to admit it. "He'd never tell us what he was doing every evening. Just that it was 'official Ghostfacer business,' so he couldn't divulge it. We just want to know that part of him better."

"I—"

"Just a few dinners," she says. "Please. It would mean so much to us."

He wants more than anything in the world to tell her no, but he can't. He's destroyed her life so much already that telling her no isn't an option.

"Okay," he says. "Do you have a pen and paper?"

She hands them to him and he scribbles down his number. "You can call me," he says. "Whenever."

She kisses him on the cheek then, soft and grateful and it tears him apart. He waves off her offer to call Bradley to see him out, and doesn't stop hyperventilating from the time he shuts the door behind him until the time he steps into headquarters back on the other side of town.

It's still early, at least for them, only three in the afternoon. He asked for the day off at Kinko's so that he could dedicate the day to his visit to Corbett's parents. He should be alone in the garage, and the lights should be in perfect working order.

But he's not and they're not, and he stops hyperventilating because he stops breathing altogether.

Because there, in the corner, is Corbett with shiny, translucent blood spattered all down his front.

***

It takes Ed a long moment to stop just gaping, and in the part of his brain that still works, he thinks that this is why he will eventually be killed by some sort of supernatural being. He loves the hunt, but he really has no clue what to do when he actually finds the damn thing. So he stares, and he stares, and yes, he stares some more, and the only reason he can see Corbett at all is because it's so damn bright outside, because the lights are flickering on and off and every computer in the room is scrambled.

"Corbett?" he finally gasps out, and Corbett's eyes come to rest on him.

"Ed," he breathes out, like his name is holy, and he takes a step forward.

Ed takes one back to compensate and stares some more, before he asks the most pressing question in his mind.

"What are you doing here?"

He already knows the how. They never salted and burned Corbett's body, partly because the cops retrieved it from the Morton house the day after it all went down, when they sent in an anonymous tip to the police that Corbett had decided to spend the night there like so many before him. The police had brought him out and turned him over to the family for burial, and none of them could bring themselves to defile Corbett's grave once he'd been put into the ground.

But the other reason, the bigger one, was that they didn't want to rule out the possibility. Harry thought it would be cool to have a ghost team member, and Ed agreed because he wanted to see Corbett again. Why, he's never figured out, because there's no closure to be had on something like what happened that night in Daggett's basement, but he knew he wanted to see him all the same.

And he'd known Corbett could come back to them, because he had been there at Comic Con in their hotel room.

But that had been only for a few seconds, and they hadn't seen him before that or since. He'd shown up because he loved comics and now…now the biggest question on Ed's mind is why he's here this time.

Corbett frowns, like he's trying to think that through. Ed's never seen a ghost think—never seen many real ghosts, for that matter—and he wonders what a ghost's thought process is like, without live brainwaves to carry the thoughts. Then he reminds himself that he doesn't study science anymore now that he has the supernatural to focus on, and waits for Corbett to finish the thought.

"You called me," Corbett says finally, and then nods as though satisfied that he's come up with the right answer. "I was—gone. And then you—you said you loved me. And I came because—because it's you."

Ed swallows. "Corbett—I—how did you hear that?"

Corbett sits down on one of their chairs and it's maybe the freakiest thing Ed has seen happen in his own garage. Ghosts were supposed to be transparent and intangible. They should walk through walls and fall through solid objects or at least float above them. But Corbett sits there with a tangible weight and rubs his solid fingers along his solid chin.

"I think I'm connected to you," he says. "Tied. I think—I _know_ that I love you. And all I've ever wanted is for you to love me back."

"Corbett, I—I was talking to your mom. I felt guilty because it's my fault you died and she—she thinks we were a couple."

Corbett rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck and shrugs. "I'm sorry."

Ed wants to laugh that Corbett is apologizing for something so damn trivial when it's Ed's fault that Corbett was murdered. But the situation is insane and his entire being hurts just looking at what he did, so he doesn't.

"I let her think we were," he says quietly. "She wants me to come over and have dinner with your family."

"Will you?" Corbett asks. "Ed, please. I need you to see them and tell me if they're okay."

"They're not," Ed answers. "How could they be right now?"

Corbett's face falls and he stares down at the ground. "Fair enough."

"Why haven't you gone to see them?" Ed asks. "Or us. If you can come back, why—?"

Corbett shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. Ghosts are driven by something. One reason. People…they're complicated, but ghosts? We're shadows, man. Shells. We're hollow save for our motive."

"And yours?"

Corbett smiles wryly at him. "What do you think?"

"Me."

 _Hubris_ , Ed thinks, until Corbett points at him and clicks his tongue in agreement.

"I died because I loved you. I died without you loving me back. And I'll be stuck in between until you salt and burn my body or you love me back." He shrugs. "I'm not proud of it. It's a pathetic motive. I'm a puppy dog in the ghost world, following you around. But I'm tied to you. Not to mention the fact that my parents have been through enough. They don't need to see me like this."

He touches the wound on his throat and his fingers come away bloody. Ed has watched the video of that wound being made no less than forty-nine times. He even stole the camera from the police before they could watch the tape when they took it for evidence.

"Right," Ed says. "Can't you—can't you fix it? The way you look?"

"No. Not until—" He shrugs. "It's tied to the motive, Ed. Everything is tied to a ghost's motive. Until my need is satisfied…I'm trapped."

"Does it hurt?"

Corbett shakes his head. "Not anymore. While I was in the echo, it did. Now?" A long pause, then he adds quietly, "Now there's only one thing that hurts."

Ed hangs his head in defeat. "Right. I—I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Is there any way you can stop messing with the electronics? It's good to see you, but the power issues are going to be a problem."

"Can't. Sorry."

"Okay." Ed takes a deep breath. "Am I the only one who can see you, since you're tied to me?"

"Nope. Anyone can. Why?"

"I just—I don't know if it's a good idea to tell the guys you're back."

Corbett considers that, then shakes his head. "They could handle it."

"Maybe," Ed admits, but he doesn't add that he doesn't know if he could.

"Ed—" Corbett starts, just as Ed starts to say, "Corbett—"

They both stop, then Corbett nods for Ed to go first.

"Corbett, I just—you do realize that what I said to your mom…"

"You didn't mean it. I know. But I'm governed by supernatural laws now. It wasn't my choice to come here. You said the words and I came because I literally couldn't not."

Ed pales. "You—you were forced to? Jesus Christ, Corbett. That's just—that's cruel."

"I was murdered slowly with a rebar through the neck after being tortured by a lonely necrophiliac ghost. Cruel has been standard for my life since my death."

"I'm sorry," Ed says again, because God, he's so fucking sorry. He's sorry he ever hung those signs up in the mall looking for an intern to begin with.

He doesn't sense Corbett's movement since he doesn't disturb the air around him anymore, so it's a shock when he feels cool fingers curl under his chin and tilt his head up from his gaze at the floor.

"Don't be," Corbett says. "You got me out of the loop. You—you lied to me when I was so broken that I could believe it. When you asked me if I remembered it, I really did. I remembered being with you and kissing you and making love to you and none of it ever really happened. But you gave me the memory of that, just for a second, and I'm grateful. It was more than I ever got when I was alive."

Ed closes his fingers around Corbett's wrist and grips there, tight as he can. Corbett doesn't even flinch under it and it takes Ed a moment to realize that's because it doesn't hurt.

"I miss you so much," he says through his tears. "The real you. The flesh-and-blood you who was more than just a motive."

"I miss me, too," Corbett admits, and then he takes a step back. "I can't leave. Now that you've said those words, I'm here until you mean them. But you can hide me somewhere. I'll cooperate."

"Where can I hide you so that you won't be breaking everything electronic? There are no Amish around here."

Corbett shrugs. "I have no idea, man. It's not like I mean to do it. It just happens."

Ed frowns and strokes his chin thoughtfully, ignoring the way Corbett's eyes follow his fingers as they drag across his beard. Corbett had a thing for his beard. Ed remembers that vividly.

"Well," he says slowly, "earlier, I was thinking…how do you think?"

"What?"

"You think, right? You have thoughts?"

"Sure I do."

"Okay, but you're dead."

"Yes. Thanks for the reminder."

"No, I mean…you don't have brainwaves. So how do you think?"

Corbett frowns now, too, looking confused and a little taken aback. "I hadn't thought about it before."

"Well…the thing is, what if…what if you still have brainwaves. Only—only they're not the kind humans have? What if your thoughts are like…charged? With magic, you know? So that charge is like—it's like what those assholes did to us when they erased our tapes. Your thoughts are charged like a magnet and that's what's screwing up the electronics."

"So I should stop thinking?"

"No," Ed says. He grins, just a little, because now that he's figured out the problem, it's just a matter of solving it. "Corbett, we just have to reverse your polarity."

"You—what?"

"Did you never watch Doctor Who?"

Corbett shrugs, and Ed vows to make Corbett sit down and watch it as soon as he figures out how to make the TV stop fritzing every time Corbett gets within thirty feet of it.

"Look, it's like…anything that is polarized moves. Ghost thoughts must move opposite to what human brainwaves do. Our brainwaves flow through electronics, but yours can't because they're backwards. So if we can figure out a way to—"

"I get that, Ed," Corbett says impatiently. "What I'm wondering is how you plan on overcoming the fact that I'm both dead, and also magic."

"I just have to build a really strong electro magnet," Ed answers. "Science overcomes magic any day, Corbett. It's why sci-fi is better than fantasy. Did I teach you nothing?"

"You really think you can do that?"

"Look, I can't hide you anywhere without the lights flickering. Hell, even right now, the only reason it's not driving me crazy is because it's still day light outside, so I don't notice the overhead blinking in and out."

Corbett glances up and his mouth falls open just a little. "I hadn't even noticed that," he says. "I don't feel it."

Ed wonders if Corbett can feel much of anything now, but it seems too personal of a question to ask. Instead he shrugs and says, "Look, I'm going to have to hit up the internet and Radio Shack and if you come with me to either, I won't be able to do it because of the whole…you know. Fritzing. And you can't stay here because Harry and Spruce will be here soon. And if you go in the house, Maggie will realize that there's a ghost in it." He bites his lip and looks around the garage helplessly. "Shit. I'm really not going to be able to keep you a secret, am I? They know what to look for."

"I said I'd cooperate," Corbett answers. "Not that you'd be able to do this."

"I don't—I don't know what to tell them. I mean…I can't—your motivation—"

"Ed—"

"It's not the gay thing," he interrupts. "It's the guilt. It's my fault you're stuck here. It's my fault you died. And if I tell them that, that you're here because of me, they're going to hate me. Maggie's going to ask me why I can't just love you back already so you can be free and Harry's going to be mad that you're back, and Spruce—I don't know what he'll do but Harry and Maggie are going to hate me. And—and I'm not exactly sure that they'd be wrong to."

"I don't blame you."

"I know you don't. But I do. And I think they do, too, a little."

Corbett sighs. "Look, they're going to know why I'm here whether you say it or not. And you can't hide me. You can keep me from interfering with the electronics and I get that that's definitely something to look into. But you can't hide me from them. Not for very long."

Ed scrubs his hand over his face and copies Corbett's sigh. "Fine. Fine. I'll—" He shrugs. "We'll just…say you want to keep being a Ghostfacer. You do, right? Because having a ghost on the team is going to be so damn badass. And it might be the only thing that can make Harry get over it."

"What's going to make _you_ get over it?" Corbett muses, and that's really not fair.

"I could ask you the same question," Ed spits out before he can stop himself.

Corbett stays silent for a long time, staring at him. Ed flinches away and averts his eyes, trying not to let this add to the already enormous pile of things he has to hate himself for.

"You know I can't do that," Corbett says finally. "I wish I could, Ed. But…" He shrugs. "It's you. I'm tied to you. I think I was before I died, too. I don't know. But I can't get over you now even if I try. Now that it's my motive, I'm stuck. We're both just going to have to live with that."

Ed doesn't want to live with that. He also wants to point out that Corbett isn't living with that; he's _dying_ with that. Then he cuts his own thoughts short because yeah, Corbett already did die with that once.

"D—do you need anything?" he asks instead. "I don't guess you eat or drink anymore. Do ghosts need like…ectoplasm or something?"

"I'm good," Corbett answers. "I also don't sleep."

"Great," Ed says with false cheer. "Really great. So…you want me to tell them you're back and then let them see you? Or do you want to just…shock and awe them?"

"We could scare them," Corbett answers with a mischievous grin, and, well, that's exactly what they do.

***

Ed thinks that all in all, telling his fellow Facers about Corbett's return could've gone worse. Sure, Maggie glared at him with tears running down her cheeks and made him agree to a "talk" later that evening. Sure, Spruce tried to interview Corbett about what it was like Beyond, to see which of his ancestors was right about the after life. And yeah, okay, so Harry took off running across the garage, screaming like a child, and dumped an entire can of salt around himself without making the circle big enough to include the rest of them. Ed's not entirely convinced that some of Maggie's anger isn't about Harry not making room for her in the circle.

But after that, after Harry realizes that Corbett is a friendly ghost—and Ed will never burn the question, "So you're not all pissed off about Ed not savoring your man meat?" out of his brain—then it's okay. Then it's the four of them trying to figure out how to build an electromagnet strong enough to counteract magic together, and the teamwork of that almost makes it feel like old times.

But afterwards, when Harry and Spruce make a Radio Shack run to get the parts they need, Maggie takes Ed's wrist between her tiny fingers and pinches like a vice.

"We need to talk," she says, and pulls him towards the door.

He can see Corbett's face as they leave, paler than it was when he was alive, but just as expressive. He can read it there that Corbett knows what they're going to talk about and Ed winces before giving in and letting Maggie tug him into the yard.

"Maggie," he sighs. "I know what you're going to say—"

"No, you don't."

"Look, I know it's my fault. Okay? I know. And I know I should just…love him back so he can go, but—"

"That's not what I was going to say."

Ed stops. "Oh. Okay."

"You can't make yourself love someone anymore than you can make yourself not love someone," she says. She sounds like she's explaining this fact to a small child.

"I know."

"But, Ed, I want you to stop and think about every ghost we've ever met."

"What about them?"

"They're always pissed, aren't they? They're lonely or their mother didn't love them or they were murdered bloody by someone they trusted. So they act out. They fight. They kill because they were." She gives Ed a hard look. "And Corbett isn't doing any of those things despite the fact that he has plenty of reason to."

"So?"

"So? Doesn't that tell you something?"

"Like what?"

"Look, Corbett…he loves you, Ed."

"I know, Maggie. I get it."

"Do you really? Do you get what _kind_ of love he has for you? Because for him to have died lonely, unloved, and bloody, he should be coming to kill you in your sleep. But he's not. Because he still loves you. He loves you more than that. It's—" She bites her lip. "There's love and then there's…you know. Pure love. Pure, unselfish, just-want-what's-best for someone love. And for Corbett to not be feasting on your entrails right now, he must have that for you."

"Are you trying to hurt me, Maggie? Because that's what you're doing."

She shakes her head. "I would never try to hurt you on purpose, Ed. But you need to realize just how bad this is for him."

"I do know. I was there. I've seen him—" He stops. "I watched the tape. Over and over again I watched him die and then I talked him out of the echo by lying through my teeth. And now he's here because he still can't let go of me, so I get it, Maggie. I get it. But there's nothing I can do about it. He's here, he still wants to be a Ghostfacer, so all I can do is build a magnet so he won't disrupt our equipment and then let him come on hunts with us. I don't have anything else."

She stares at him for a long moment, then pulls him close. "You're such an _idiot_ ," she tells him, for no good reason—as far as Ed can see. "I knew I should've told you no when you brought home the stray puppy and asked if we could keep him."

Ed thinks calling Corbett a stray puppy is a little harsh, but he doesn't point this out to her because it's also accurate.

"How did seeing his parents go?" she asks when she releases him from the hug.

"O—okay," Ed says, and rubs at the back of his neck. "Met his mom. Talked. He—he told her I was his boyfriend."

"Did you correct her?"

Ed shakes his head. "Couldn't stand it. She said he loved me and I—"

"Ed, you didn't."

"Kind of. That's—that's why he's here. Because I said it. So now he's sort of…tied. I don't know."

She punches him on the arm, hard. "You bastard," she says, and all the warmth in her voice is gone. "You fucking _bastard_."

"I know, sis," he snaps. "I get it. I'm the scum of the earth. But I couldn't tell her Corbett had lied."

"You didn't have to say you loved him," she answers back. "You didn't have to take it that far."

"Yeah, well, I did, and now I'm supposed to have dinner with them and talk to them about the Ghostfacers and she has my number and it sucks, okay? I have to be his widower or something and I get it. Please stop yelling at me, Maggie. I'm too tired for it. It's been a long day and I don't have the brain capacity for this right now."

She sighs, punches him on the arm again, and then pulls him into a fierce hug.

"You're so stupid," she whispers.

"I know. I don't know what he sees in me."

"Gotta be the beard," she murmurs, and Ed laughs and pushes her away.

"I—I don't know what to do, Mags."

"Me, either. I think you need to talk to him some more. Get to know him better."

"What good will that do?"

She shrugs. "He loves you, Ed. Maybe it's time you learned to see what's behind that."

When Harry and Spruce return half an hour later with the materials to make an electro magnet, Ed is in the middle of a conversation with Corbett about his favorite comics. It's the only place he knows to start with a dead non-lover, so they talk about why they think Stan Lee is overrated and why movie adaptations should be outlawed. Then Ed has to focus his attention on building the magnet.

It takes awhile to get it calibrated, to figure out what strength cancels out the magic and what settings keep the lights on. Corbett is patient through most of it, letting them stick magnet after magnet around his neck while turning the lights on until finally, around midnight, they have a working model.

Spruce, of course, films the whole thing because really, this is going to be awesome footage for their show and even Ed can see that. He bets those assholes from Texas didn't realize they'd soon have a ghost of their very own to film when they wiped all their tapes. Idiots.

"We're geniuses," Maggie pronounces after Corbett surfs the internet without making the monitor explode. "We're going to be famous."

"We conquered death," Harry murmurs, awestruck. "We are the most badass ghost hunters in the history of the world."

Maggie elbows him in the side. "Ghost _facers_. We don't hunt all of them. Some of them are nice."

The smile she gives Corbett is warm and just a little patronizing. It's kind of sickening.

"Right," Harry says quickly, but they can all hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice. "Corbett's not really a ghost, though. He's more like…an undead American."

"Guys, it's okay," Corbett says. "We can talk about it. I'm dead. I'm a ghost. I'm out of my loop and I accept that now."

Maggie smiles at him and pats him on the arm. Or she starts to, at least, but then she stops with her hand still on his bicep and stares.

"Wow."

"I know," Corbett says. "I think—" he frowns.

Hesitantly, he reaches out and lays one hand on Ed's own, bare skin to bare skin. Nothing happens, and Ed stares up at him, confused, until Corbett lays his other hand on Harry. Harry shivers, then takes a step back away from the touch.

"That," Harry says, "was like walking under a waterfall."

Maggie nods. "Yeah. D—don't you feel that, Ed?"

"No." Ed catches Corbett's eye and looks away quickly. "I—what are you talking about?"

"You can't feel it," Corbett says. "Ed—when a ghost touches you, it's like…it's different. It affects you. Like Harry said. When Daggett touched me, I felt it. But you don't feel it when I touch you."

"So?" Ed hates the way he sounds defiant, as though daring all of them to say it, but he can't help it. This is getting way too fucked up for him to handle with any sort of aplomb.

"So I can touch you and it doesn't feel like I'm dead. I guess—I guess that's part of the motive?"

Corbett bites his lip and looks thoughtful and Ed prays with everything in him that Corbett doesn't make the leap he himself already has: if it's because of the motive, then it shouldn't feel different for _Corbett_ , not for _Ed_.

"Dude," Spruce says, and Ed can hear the camera whirring in his hands. "Dude, do you know what this means?"

"What?" Ed asks.

"You're like the gay ghost whisperer. Your milkshake totally brings them to the yard."

Ed raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. "Shut up, Spruce."

Corbett bites his lip and pushes his fingers up, sliding past his wrist and under the sleeve of his shirt. Ed doesn't move, doesn't even breathe, just watches Corbett's face as it twists in confusion and concentration.

"Wow," Corbett says finally. "Just…wow."

"What?"

"I can—when I touch them, it's like…have you ever set an ice cube on your hand and left it there? Then when you take it away and you press down on your skin, you can feel that there's pressure there, but you can't really feel if it's good or bad? That's what it's like when I touch them. Just…pressure. But when I touch you—"

His breath catches in his throat, which Ed thinks is ridiculous because ghosts don't breathe. Then Corbett takes his hand out of Ed's sleeve and touches his face instead. And yeah, he preferred the sleeve thing.

"I can feel it. But not just—remember when you were gripping my wrist earlier? That should've hurt, but it didn't. I could feel it, like the pressure, but no pain. I thought—I thought you were like them. But this—" He uses his free hand to pull Ed's to his own face. "When you touch me nicely…I can feel it like I used to when I was alive. Except I feel it—fuck, ten times as strongly."

Ed flushes and looks away. "I—Corbett."

Corbett releases the hand he has gripped around Ed's, but he doesn't stop running his fingers over Ed's cheek. "You have no idea," he whispers. "To not feel anything and then to feel… _everything_."

Ed swallows. "Corbett."

Corbett blinks, seeming to come back to himself, and then lets go of Ed's face. "Sorry," he whispers. "Maybe—maybe we should all call it a night. I'll stay out here and watch TV now that I don't make it fritz."

"You sure?" Maggie asks. "I mean…surely you have cool undead things to do."

Corbett chuckles, but Ed can tell that it's forced.

"Being dead really isn't as exciting as you'd think. You don't cross over and suddenly get a membership card to cool dead people spas or anything. There are no ghost orgies I could be attending. Well, except for the ghosts who died during orgies, but they tend not to allow the rest of us in. They don't think we died in a cool enough way."

"Do I want to know how you found that out?" Harry asks, and before Corbett can answer, Spruce cuts in, "Yes. It'll be badass behind the veil information. Just be sure you talk into the camera, Corbett."

"I was lonely," Corbett says, shrugging. "There were some cute guys in that orgy. I asked if I could join and they said getting stabbed through the neck with a rebar was not a 'groovy' enough way to go."

"Was it acrobatic?" Spruce asks. "I bet ghost sex involves levitating and going through walls and shit."

"I don't know," Corbett answers. "I haven't had any since I died. And I couldn't really tell much about what they were doing because it was more or less a giant…pile."

"But they can do it?" Harry asks, sounding morbidly curious. "You can get your gay on?"

"If I wanted."

Ed wills Harry to stop talking with every fiber of his being, but he's never been particularly good at getting Harry to do what he wants him to do. Case in point, now.

"So is it just with other ghosts? Or can you gay a human, too?"

Ed tries very hard not to do a literal head-desk, and fails. With his head still flat against the wood, he hears Corbett answer, somewhat bemusedly, "I don't know. I haven't tried. I don't know that I'd want to, since I'm numb with everyone but Ed."

"I hate you all," Ed announces, and wallows in his own misery while Harry muses aloud on if ghosts come ectoplasm instead of semen, and maybe Corbett should go jerk off in a cup so they can analyze it on camera for the show.

"Only if you want to," Maggie says gently, but Ed can hear a hint of curiosity in her voice that says yeah, she'd kind of like to find that out, too.

"It's not like that," Corbett says. "Or I don't think it is. I don't—now that I'm dead. I mean, semen is life, you know? I don't have life anymore. So…" He shrugs. "Are you really going to air this, Spruce?"

"Yes," Spruce says firmly. "And we're going to be fucking millionaires. I'm going to get a girl and you're going to become the most famous ghost in the world and other ghost guys are going to be throwing themselves at you. It's going to be damn awesome. So keep talking about ghost wanking. Curious minds want to know."

"There's really not much to tell," Corbett answers. Then, "Well, okay. One thing. I can't—" He stops, and Ed's not sure how, but he can feel Corbett's gaze on him. "I can't fantasize about just anything while I'm doing it," Corbett says. "It has to be—I mean, he's my motive, you know? So. Yeah. Anyway. Also it takes a lot longer. I guess because I don't feel things as strongly as I did when I was alive, so it takes a long time to get off."

"So you can go for…what, hours?" Maggie asks.

"Yeah. Once, more than a day. I mean, it's not like I had anything else to do, anyway."

Maggie sighs. "I wish human guys could last for hours."

"Hey!" Harry says, and Ed wallows even more because _ew_ he does not need to hear that. He's still trying to pretend it's not happening at all.

"Well, I just mean—"

"Ed, your boyfriend is upsetting my lady!" Harry snaps. "You need to keep him under control."

Ed wants to kill Harry. He really, really does.

"You're upsetting _me_ ," Ed retorts instead of punching his friend in the face. "Whatever the two of you do in the privacy of your own backseat is between the two of you. There's no need to go around flaunting it in our faces. I don't need the nausea on top of the rest of this."

"Sorry," Harry says, but Maggie doesn't. Ed didn't really expect her to.

"I'm going to bed," he says. "You guys can keep filming ghost porn all you want, but I need sleep. It's been a long-ass day."

Corbett watches him as he rises, but lets him go without comment. In fact, Ed's pretty sure he's getting out of this whole thing with at least some of his dignity still intact until he rolls over in the middle of the night to find Corbett sitting at his desk chair, Ed's laptop balanced on his knees while he watches Ed sleep.

Ed jumps awake and sits up, letting the blankets pool around his waist.

"Jesus Christ, Corbett."

"Sorry," Corbett answers. "I just…" He shrugs. "I'll go. I just don't like being out there in the garage alone. Being around you is…soothing, I guess, is the right word."

"Well…next time, warn a guy."

"Okay. Do you mind if I stay now?"

Ed bites his lip. "If—if you want. If it's that important to you. Does it _hurt_ to be away from me?"

Corbett looks thoughtful for a moment before he admits, "Not—not _hurt_. More like _uncomfortable_. Like I have an itch I can't scratch when you're not around."

"Jesus," Ed breathes. "Is it—can I help? I mean, is it okay now? When you're in the same room? Or—"

"It's better when we're touching," Corbett answers. "You know it is. But this is okay. It's fine. Can I just sit here? I won't watch you anymore if it creeps you out. I'm Googling for support groups, anyway."

"Gay Ghosts Anonymous?"

"It could exist," Corbett says defensively. "I mean…maybe. Sort of. A permutation thereof."

Ed considers it, then holds out his hand. "Here. You can—you can touch my hand if it'll help."

Corbett stares at him for a second, then moves the chair closer and tugs up his camo pants to expose his calf. It's right at the same height as Ed's prone body, so he reaches out and lets the back of his hand rest against Corbett's leg. He glances up, meeting Corbett's eyes, and for just a second, he shivers. Then he closes his eyes, mumbles that he's going back to sleep, and everything goes dark.

***

When Ed wakes up, he feels like he's licked a battery. There's a tingle going up his arm starting at his fingertips and all attempts at shifting and shaking his arm do nothing to quell it. Reluctantly, he opens his eyes, and sighs when the events of the previous day come rushing back to him.

"Corbett," he says, more whiny than he thinks is totally dignified. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" Corbett asks. He's on the floor by Ed's bed, staring up at him as Ed peers over the edge. He's touching his index finger to Ed's in a way that makes him think of the painting of God reaching down from heaven to spark life into Adam's finger.

"Whatever you're doing," Ed grumbles. He wets his lips, wincing when he tastes the metallic tang he associates with pennies.

Corbett glances at their fingers, then back up at Ed and frowns. "Sorry," he says, and pulls his finger away.

Instantly, the feeling stops and the taste goes away. In the absence of what Ed assumes was some kind of low-level electric current—okay, probably magic, but that's what it felt like—Ed's skin feels remarkably distant from himself, like it's not really a part of him at all.

"I—you okay?" Ed asks. "I mean—"

"I told you," Corbett says. "It's easier when I'm touching you, but it's really only bad when we're in different places."

Ed nods, and grabs his phone from under his pillow. He glances at the clock on it, wincing when he realizes he has to be at Kinko's in an hour.

"What are we going to do when I have to go to work?" he asks. "You can't come with me."

"I do have powers, you know," Corbett murmurs. "It's not all gay angsting and lusting after you. I can actually do stuff. I could kill you with my mind, if I wanted to. But I don't, so mostly I plan to hijack your laptop every night to surf for gay porn. Try deleting that out of your internet history."

Ed smiles, just a little, and sits up in bed. "What kind of powers?"

"The standards. Invisibility, teleportation…and then, of course, my unique ones that have to do with the motive. Case in point—" He touches his index finger to the end of Ed's nose, just for a second. It tingles, and Ed sneezes while Corbett grins.

"Is it going to do that every time we touch now? Because it didn't do that at first."

Corbett frowns as he mulls that over, then answers, "Honestly? I was confused when you didn't feel it at first. So I don't know, man. It probably will. But it's not like I have a lot of ghost friends I can ask about this."

"You don't have any ghost friends? You've been dead for two weeks."

Corbett shrugs. "I'm not good at meeting people. The last big social function I attended was my own funeral. Thanks for coming to it, by the way."

He's being sarcastic because Ed didn't go to Corbett's funeral. None of the Ghostfacers did. They all agreed that being there was wrong since it was their fault that he was dead, but especially Ed's.

"Corbett—"

"You have work," Corbett says. "And I have to get invisible. So you go shower."

Ed throws back the covers, pauses, then asks, "You're—you're not going to follow me, are you? Invisibly? To—to see?"

"Ed."

"I'm sorry. I had to ask."

"No, you really didn't."

"Look, if I could turn invisible, I'd look at naked chicks while they were in the shower, so—"

"That's the difference between us," Corbett sighs. "I only want it if you want me to see. And you don't."

"Okay," Ed says, because he's not going to argue with that. "Just—look, if you want to, then—then okay. I mean…it's the least I can do after—after everything."

Corbett laughs. He actually fucking _laughs_.

"Sometimes," he says, "I wish you could hear yourself. 'Corbett, I know you're dead and all, but maybe seeing my super special dick will make it all better.'"

"I—I thought."

Corbett shakes his head, still chuckling softly. "Ed…I love you. You know I do. But getting to see you isn't a consolation prize. If you ever love me back…then yeah. Yeah, I really want to see. But in the mean time, letting me look but not touch is not an acceptable alternative."

Ed stares down at the floor and wishes it would swallow him whole. "Oh."

"Yeah. Go shower, man. I'll be here surfing teenhunks.net or something. Invisibly. Which is going to freak people the hell out because it'll look like your computer is spontaneously searching for gay porn on it's own. Pretty badass."

Ed smiles at the ground, then shuffles past Corbett and into the bathroom for his shower. He hesitates, wondering if he should leave the door open in case Corbett was just posturing, then shakes his head and pushes it shut. _Ego_ , he thinks. That's his problem.

It's not until he gets out of the shower that he realizes Corbett can teleport, so the door being open or not doesn't particularly matter. It also occurs to him that Corbett wouldn't lie to him about not coming in, not since Maggie was probably right about the whole unselfish love thing.

He returns to his bedroom with the towel fixed firmly around his waist, and ignores Corbett's eyes on him resolutely. Probably wasn't a good idea to be mostly naked with water dripping all over him.

Though, really, Ed has never exactly thought he was all that attractive. Wishes he was, sure, but sometimes, he wonders what the hell Corbett was thinking, loving him that much. There are far cuter men out there than him, and some of them are even into dudes.

"You're still visible," he says. "Thought you were going to disappear?"

"I did," Corbett answers. "And then I decided that if I was invisible, there was a very high chance of you coming back from your shower and sitting on me. And I really don't want to deal with your lame-ass gay panic, so. Also, with the whole being wet thing, I'm really not sure what would happen with the—" He holds up his finger to indicate the charge Ed feels when they touch. "It would really suck if I became a ghost because you didn't love me and then accidentally killed you and you passed on and I was stuck here with no way to move onto the next plane other than asking Maggie to dig up my body and burn it."

Ed blinks. "I. Uh."

"I don't know my own strength," Corbett simplifies. "You should get dressed. You have to be at work in half an hour and you still need to swing by Harry's to pick him up."

"How do you know that?"

"I kept your schedule for you, remember? There was a little organizer with notes and post-its?"

"Yeah, but—"

"But what?"

"Nothing. You're right. I do have to pick him up."

"Good. So put some clothes on. Which is something I never thought I'd say to you, but there you go."

Ten minutes later, Ed pulls to a stop in front of Harry's place. He glances at the passenger seat and tries not to move his lips as he asks, "Are you beside me? Because Harry's going to sit there."

"I'm in the back," Corbett answers. He sounds amused. "I'm not going to let Harry sit on me either, man. He's not my type and Maggie's my friend."

"Haha," Ed answers, completely without humor, and then Harry pulls the door open and Ed tries not to look like he was just talking to an invisible man.

Why he does this, he doesn't know. Harry is aware that Corbett is a ghost and can be invisible. But Ed feels a strong urge to keep Corbett's presence to himself. His secret.

"So, listen, man," Harry says when they're back on the road. "I've been thinking about this whole…dead gay lover thing."

"He's not my dead gay lover. He's just…dead and also gay."

Harry waves a hand idly and plows on. "This could be trouble, man. It was trouble when he was alive. You know I thought so."

"I saw the tape," Ed admits.

"I just…don't want you getting distracted. We've got to be focused and if you're always thinking about him—if he's coming between us."

"Harry."

"Ed, you…look. I get it. You feel guilty. And Corbett's cute as a button. No one's disagreeing. We all like him just fine. But you have to be focused on the mission, not on Casper the Homoerotic Ghost."

"Harry, stop."

"We're a team, Ed. It's tricky."

"Then explain you and Maggie."

"That's different."

"Why?"

"Because—because it is."

"Because she's a girl?"

Harry stares at him for a moment, then simply says, "No."

"Then why? Why's it so different?"

"Because it is, okay?"

"No, Harry. Tell me why."

"Because I love her," Harry snaps. "And more than that, she loves me back."

"Corbett loves me," Ed points out, carefully ignoring most of what Harry just said.

"Yeah. And you don't love him. That's the difference. Okay? That."

"It's different," Ed admits. "Fine. You're right. It is. But how's that a problem for the team?"

"Look, he's pining, and dead, and you're distracted by guilt over him being dead, and I just—don't want to see you get hurt. Or us get hurt. Because if you get distracted on a hunt, then forget your little gay drama, we could die."

"Yeah, I know that, Harry. Believe me, I remember."

"Well, I just don't want to die, is all. Maggie loves me back, so I'm fulfilled and shit. I'm not coming back all pining like he did."

"You're not going to die."

"Try telling that to Corbett. Actually, tell him that the next time the two of you are doing that touching thing."

Ed flushes. He's not even sure why, because Harry doesn't know that Ed is starting to feel an electric tingle every time Corbett touches him now, which is really the only reason he can think of to blush right now.

"Shut up, Harry. You don't get it, okay? So just stop talking about shit you don't understand."

Harry folds his arms across his chest, but falls silent, and for a long moment, it's bliss. Then Harry exhales slowly and whispers, "You care too much about that kid, Ed. You always have."

Ed is very glad he's already pulled to a stop in the employee parking lot because if he were still driving, it's very likely that he'd have run off the road just then.

"I—I care about people. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Harry says, but he doesn't look as though he believes it.

"Just—just fucking shut up, Spangler."

Harry winces at the use of his last name instead of first, and hops out of the van, locking the door behind him.

Ed stops just as he's about to shut the door behind him, then whispers, "Corbett? Are you out? Or are you teleporting? I don't want to slam you in the door."

And then suddenly his entire back feels electric and something is pressed against him. He doesn't think Corbett's doing it on purpose, or even means anything by it, but it makes him jump away even as Corbett whispers, "Yeah, you can shut it."

"G—good," Ed says, full of false confidence. "Um…just—just follow me, all right? And try not to bump into anyone."

They make it into the store okay, and Ed lets Harry take the counter while he fulfills the orders. He doesn't feel like talking to customers today, and he really doesn't feel like talking to Harry right now, either.

Corbett, though…Corbett's different. There's something about knowing that Corbett loves him unconditionally that makes him feel like they can talk easier than he can with his other friends.

So when Corbett whispers, "So…what happened in the van," Ed takes the risk of looking like a crazy person talking to himself by whispering back, "Harry was out of line."

"He was being honest," Corbett answers back. "I can respect that."

Ed carries a box of paper over to the copier and pulls out the empty tray. After a moment, he hears the rustle of plastic and then a soft, dull thud, that makes him think Corbett has seated himself on top of the copier and is kicking his legs over the side. Ed tries not to smile.

"He shouldn't have said that stuff."

"Look. He worries. It's what he does. He's a neurotic nutcase who's lucky he found the one woman on the planet who'd have him." Ed feels a poke on his side that has to be Corbett because of the jolt it gives him. "Look, I'm not offended. I wish he felt differently, but I'm okay with it. But you…I don't know why, but you, on the other hand, actually do seem offended."

"He just—he gets to me sometimes."

"I'm sorry, Ed. If I could go anywhere else, I would. I don't like upsetting you and screwing with the team. But I just…can't."

"No one blames you, Corbett. No one except Harry, at least."

"And I don't blame _you_. So we're just two people who aren't at fault for anything but who constantly blame themselves for things out of their control."

"Like two peas in a pod," Ed agrees, then looks away quickly, hoping he's judged where Corbett actually is and he's not, in fact, turning towards the guy.

Ed finishes loading the paper into the tray and pushes it shut. Harry is occupied with a customer at the front of the store, so Ed takes a moment to lean against the copier next to Corbett and try to relax. Then Corbett pats his shoulder and he breathes deeply, trying to cover the sharp intake of breath that came out involuntarily.

"So…when you died. You started looping."

"Yeah."

"How come? Why didn't you jump straight into unfulfilled ghost territory? You took a pit stop at the land of denial."

Corbett doesn't answer that right away, and for a second, Ed thinks he's gone too far. Then Corbett speaks, slowly and carefully like he's testing out each word in his mouth before he says it.

"It was—a lot of reasons. The biggest one was that I never really thought I'd die. I mean…no one thinks they're going to. They know it has to happen eventually, they get in a dangerous situation and know it's possible that it'll happen soon. But they don't really think it'll happen right away. I woke up and saw Sam and—and he and Dean were so…capable, you know? And Dean was so protective of him that I just thought…there was no way Sam would let me get hurt. And there's no way that Dean would let anything bad happen to Sam, so as long as I was with him, I'd be safe. Because Dean would come save us if Sam couldn't do the job on his own."

After a pause, Corbett lets out a huff of breath. "It was really slow. The dying. It felt like it took forever. He didn't shove that bar in fast, you know. He took his time. And I felt every millimeter of it. So part of me…even once I knew that I was going to die, I didn't think I'd ever actually be dead, because the dying took so damn long."

Ed doesn't mean to. He doesn't even think about it. He just reaches out and and feels the air until his hand lands on Corbett's shoulder, squeezing even against the shock.

"There was other stuff, too. 'Why didn't I tell my mom I love her when I talked to her today?' 'I can't believe I never went for it with Ed.' Stupid, little things that all just sort of added up. But the biggest one was just the dying itself. I didn't think I'd ever stop dying and just be dead."

Ed's fingers move against his will until they find the wound on Corbett's neck. The steady trickle of blood that has been there since he first started looping wets his fingers, but when he pulls them away, they're clean.

"Corbett—" he starts, and then stops. "God."

"Never got to God. When you pulled me out of the loop and I took out Daggett—I think I went to Hell. Or sort of a halfway station there. But only because I was still clinging to him. It was like I sort of dropped him off there and as soon as I let go, I was back in the Morton house. But you guys had already left, so. Being dead isn't so bad. It's the dying that's the bitch."

His arm slips around Corbett's shoulders and Ed hopes no one looks back here because he has his arm around an invisible man sitting on the Kinko's copier, and the entire thing is insane.

"You said that when I touch you, it helps," he says, and wonders where that came from, because it's a non sequitur. "Why?"

"Lots of reasons. The magic, for one. Its terms are satisfied, sort of. And yeah, I've wanted you to touch me for a long time. But it's more than that. Baser. Don't you ever miss human contact?"

He does, actually. A lot. More than he cares to admit, because he really doesn't get much outside of the occasional hug from Maggie.

"Sometimes."

"It's just nice to be touched. I don't know. It's an ingrained instinct, you know? From the time we're babies, we cry and we cry until our mothers hold us. And from that point on, we're crying on the inside because we want someone to touch us that way again, and no one will. We get touched, sure, but never—never so purely. Never just because of love. At the absolute best of times, it's because of love and lust. It's never just on its own. So we cry inside because we want that again. You're the closest I can get, I think. To that purity. And it helps. Doesn't it feel good to you, too?"

"It—yeah. It does."

"Okay. Then think about how much you miss human contact and factor in the fact that I'm dead so I thought I'd never feel human contact again. It doesn't feel like that with Harry and Maggie and Spruce. It doesn't feel good and real. So…there's you."

"Yeah. Me."

"It's this urge in me all the time to be touching you every bit that I can. I want to just—breathe in the smell of you. Run my fingers over your biceps. Just—just feel alive for a little bit. Because it makes me feel human, too."

Ed shakes his head and focuses his eyes on the wall above where he assumes Corbett's head must be. He holds his hand out for Corbett to take, then pulls him into a hug.

He shivers. Shudders. His entire body feels like he's been plugged into an outlet. He's buzzing and trembling and there is electricity running through him like fire. Corbett's breath huffs against his cheek, and then he pries the two of them apart.

"Better get back to work," he says. "You're talking to yourself and hugging thin air, remember?"

"Yeah," Ed answers dazedly. "Right. That."

A push towards the front to go get the order from Harry to start working on, and then Ed loses all sense of where Corbett is, invisible in the Kinko's back room.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ed gets home that evening, he mostly plans on going to bed because he's well and truly exhausted just from existing on this day. He barely spoke to Harry all day and when they did, it was tight-lipped and terse. Then there's Corbett, whose very existence is a strain on Ed's sanity. Every time he thinks about that electric buzz, his stomach turns over unpleasantly.

So he fully intends on heading upstairs and locking Maggie out of his room so he can sit and think for awhile—although how he'll manage that with Corbett there, he's not sure, but it's a vague plan, at least. But his phone rings just as he pulls to a stop in his driveway and he answers it without even looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Ed?" a voice asks tentatively. "It's Sarah. Alan's mother."

His heart stops beating. It literally ceases to pump blood through his body. For a second, he thinks maybe he's going to die of shock now and go off into the ether and leave Corbett here alone. Then Corbett's hand presses against his chest and his breath comes rushing back to him in an instant.

"Oh. Hi," he gasps. "I—I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

"I know it's short notice," she agrees, "but my husband and I would love to have you over for dinner tonight, if you don't have plans. It would mean so much to us."

Ed hesitates, and Corbett materializes out of thin air before him. "What?" he mouths, and then disappears again.

"Your mother," Ed mouths back, and instantly wishes he hadn't said anything, because fuck, Corbett's going to want to see her and now Ed has to lie to her because he is going to be seeing her son every day for awhile and he has to go pretend that he's gone.

Corbett flashes back into tangibility immediately and the look on his face is like a knife in Ed's gut.

"I—I don't have plans," he admits, because he can't think about lying when Corbett is looking at him like that.

"Oh, good. So you'll come over then? We have dinner at around seven, so anytime between six-thirty and then would be wonderful."

"Sure," Ed answers. "Yeah. Sounds great."

"Thanks, Ed," she says. "I'll see you then."

The line goes dead and Ed drops the phone to the van floor.

"Corbett—" he says, throat dry. "Corbett—you know you can't come, right? They can't see you. They're still trying to let go. To see you like this—it'll ruin them forever. You know that? You just can't."

"But you can," Corbett answers. "Ed, you have to go. Tell me how they are. Tell me what they say. And hug my mom, okay?"

"W—why?"

"Because she needs it. And then you'll smell like her perfume and I can smell you."

"Christ, Corbett."

"Please, Ed. Please. They're my family."

"I know. Okay. Fine. Yeah."

Corbett squeezes Ed's hand in both of his. "Thank you," he breathes, and Ed's pretty sure Corbett would haul off and kiss him right now if he weren't being so careful to respect Ed's wavering boundaries.

Ed takes his hand back gently and climbs out of the van, heading into the garage and holding the door open for Corbett to follow him. Inside, he settles into his usual seat and lets his head hang in his hands.

"What else did you tell them about us?" he asks.

"Huh?"

"You told them we were together. Tell me what else. I need a primer on our relationship so that they don't realize it's not true."

"I really didn't lie that much," Corbett admits. He doesn't look nearly as abashed as the situation calls for, Ed thinks. "Mostly I told them true stuff. That you were cute, and you made me feel good…that we were doing Ghostfacers business in the evenings…basically, I just told them the truth about us being friends, but I let them think we were also getting snuggly during it. Oh, and any time we were doing hunts over night, I'd tell them I was spending the night with you. Which was true, sort of."

"Corbett, we went on a _lot_ of hunts."

"Yeah, they may think we're both a little slutty, but exclusively so."

"Fine. Replace 'ghost hunting' with 'gay sex.' Got it."

"I'm sorry. I guess—I never thought it'd matter. And I kept talking about you so much that they asked me if we were together and it made me feel stupid to say no, it was just a lame crush I had."

"It's fine, Corbett. Do they know about the ghost hunting?"

"They know I did it. They don't believe it's real. They kind of thought it was just…some silly game you and I played. Like, 'Oh, isn't it cute, the silly things Alan does to share interests with his boyfriend? Adorable.'"

"Bet they don't think it's so adorable now, huh?"

Corbett shrugs. "My parents were…indulgent. Maybe too much so. Whatever I wanted, I could have, because it wasn't like we couldn't afford it. Same thing went for my interests. I wanted to do something, then I could and should." He pauses, then admits, "That's part of the reason why I really want you to go tonight. To see if they're blaming themselves for not stopping me. If they are, please tell them not to blame themselves. Okay? I know they won't believe you because you don't believe me and I don't believe you. No one ever does when it comes to guilt. But please tell them anyway."

"Okay. Do—do you think they'll blame me? For getting you into it?"

"I don't think they do. They probably wouldn't have invited you over for dinner if they did."

Ed nods. "Corbett, I'm sorry. I know I've said that before and I know it's not enough, but I'm sorry. I really fucking am."

Corbett kneels down in front of him and places his hands on Ed's knees. "Ed, please. Just—just go see my family. It'll be okay."

"I'm not ready for this," Ed mumbles, and Corbett's fingers close tight around his wrists.

"Yes, you are. You can do this, Ed. You can be strong for me."

Ed catches Corbett's eye and stares at him in shock. It's so like what Harry said to him when they needed to get Corbett out of his loop that for a moment, he wonders if Corbett is just repeating it because it worked the first time. But Corbett couldn't have even heard that because of the looping. And that kills him because fuck, Corbett has the same amount of hopeless faith in him that his best friend does.

"You put too much faith in me," he whispers.

"You put too little," Corbett answers right back, and releases him. "Please. Just—just go now. Smile. Be nice. You're very charming, Ed. I know you don't believe me, but you are. Despite all appearances to the contrary, I don't fall for just anyone. And since I like you, my parents are going to. They need this right now. I need it, too."

Ed nods and gets to his feet. "Can you—can you tell the guys where I am? And don't let them corner you for too many questions again, okay? You have the right to tell them no."

"I don't mind," Corbett insists, but Ed's already halfway out the door.

***

Ed gets to the Corbetts' a little before seven. Bradley answers the door as before and ushers him in, no questions asked. Ed is taken to a different room this time, still along the long hallway. In it, he finds Corbett's mother talking with a man he assumes is Corbett's father. He smiles and tries to pretend like he's seen them before. He figures Corbett would've at least shown him a picture at some point, so he should probably know who they are, at least vaguely.

"Hi," he says, trying to look somber and respectful.

He wonders if he should introduce himself to the man, or if Mrs. Corbett will do that, or if this isn't a formal enough occasion to require either. He's never met a dead fake boyfriend's parents before, so he has no idea what the hell the decorum should be.

"Hello, Ed," Mrs. Corbett says warmly. "Please, sit down."

Ed hovers in the doorway, eyes darting around the room to find a suitable chair. He finally settles on one a medium distance from Corbett's parents and sits gingerly on the edge of the seat, his hands folded in his lap.

"Ed, this is my husband, Rick," she says. "Rick, this is Alan's boyfriend, Ed." Her voice chokes just a little when she says Corbett's name, but she recovers and plows forward. Ed's admiration for her goes up about three notches as he puts on his best fake smile for her husband.

"Nice to meet you, sir. Alan used to talk about you all the time."

His own voice stutters over Corbett's first name and he tries to cover it by ducking his face down, like his error was caused by the same thing that caused Mrs. Corbett's.

"Nice to meet you, too, Ed," Rick answers. "Sarah said you came to see us the other day."

"I did."

"Why?"

Ed bllinks. "Uh—because...because I felt like I should."

"You never came over before. We asked Alan to invite you over. He said you said no. So why now that he's gone?"

"Because—because he...he was close to you. And I was close to him."

"You didn't even come to his funeral."

Ed twists his fingers together and hangs his head. "I wanted to. I thought it would be inappropriate."

"Why? Because you were his boyfriend? Everyone in Alan's life knew that. We're very accepting in this family."

 _Accepting to the point of over-indulgence,_ Ed thinks, remembering what Corbett told him earlier.

"I know. But—but I. I mean." He sighs. He hates this. God, he shouldn't be here. "I just didn't think that I should be there. I had never met any of his family, I'm—I'm not out, and I guess I felt—" He stops, unsure how to finish that. The truth is that he felt guilty. But he can't say that to them right now, or ever.

Corbett's father catches his eye. "You would've been welcome, Ed."

"Thank you."

The conversation drops into a lull and Ed fishes around in his head for something to say, but he can't think of anything to say to these people. He thinks longingly of the garage, and of Harry, Maggie, and Spruce. And then he thinks, possibly with even more longing than the others, of Corbett, and he feels a pang in his chest.

Before he can flounder too hard, Bradley enters the room again and says, "Dinner's ready, ma'am. Sir."

The Corbetts rise, leaving Ed seated. After a moment, he gets awkwardly to his feet and follows them along the hallway, feeling more or less like a lost puppy. Bradley comes up behind him as they walk and whispers, "Mr. C can read fear like a lie detector, you know. You need to relax."

Ed startles and whips his head around, watching Bradley with wide eyes. "What?" he mouths back.

"He's a very successful businessman. You don't get where he is without knowing how to tell when a person is bluffing. I'm a butler. I'm not very successful. Yet I can read it. So imagine what he thinks."

Ed swallows. "Thank you," he whispers, but for what, he doesn't know. It's advice, yes, but it's not advice he can exactly use—he's no good at hiding it when he's nevrous and he can't stop being nervous at this point. So he keeps walking and takes a seat at the dining room table, trying not to think about accidentally dropping one of the fancy cups or the porcelain plates. He's pretty sure one of the glasses cost more than a month's salary at Kinko's and he's already broken the Corbetts' things enough.

For a few moments, he doesn't have to talk much, though. There's a lot of chewing and "mmm"ing and general sounds of eating, and that part is easy. Ed can do that, especially since the food is delicious and he doesn't have to fake any of it. But that can only last so long and it's only a few minutes of peace before Rick asks, "So. What happened the night Alan died?"

Ed chokes. Actually fucking Heimlich maneuver chokes. And when he's finally back to breathing normally again, the silence that falls tells him that the question still stands.

"I—what do you mean?"

"You were probably one of the last people to see him alive," Rick says. "He told us he was going Ghostfacing that night. That means he was with you. So what happened that night? He came to see you and then what happened?"

"He—well, like you said, he came over."

"And?"

Ed wracks his brain, trying to remember what Corbett told him about their "relationship."

"I—we—we made love," he says, and tries to look appropriately shamefaced, nostalgic, and sad.

If either of them are made uncomfortable by this statement, they don't show it. They just wait patiently for him to continue.

"And then I fell asleep," he says. "And when I woke up, he wasn't there. I assumed he'd had to go home. But I guess he'd gone during the night."

"And why would he do that?" Rick asks. "If he was happy, if he was in the bed of the person he loved, why would he leave in the middle of the night to go on a wild goose chase that got him killed?"

"I don't know," Ed says. "I wish I did, sir. I've—" He starts choking again, for entirely different reasons this time. "I've wondered that over and over again." He's being honest now, which is something, at least. "I wish I could've stopped him. I wish I had known he'd go wandering off by himself. If I had known, I would've kept him there with me. I would've—I would've tied him to me if I had known. But I didn't, so I couldn't, and he went. And I keep asking myself that question because I want to know the answer just as much as you do. But the truth is, I don't know."

And it hits him suddenly, that of all the questions he has asked Corbett since he found him in the garage, all the personal details they've gone over—even the conversation about Corbett's death that haunts Ed's every thought—it's never occurred to him to just ask Corbett for the truth.

"You didn't encourage him? You didn't promise him anything in return for going?"

"Promise him—what? No, of course not. He wanted to go, so he went. He's...strong willed, I guess."

"We taught him that," Sarah says. "We always told him to do what he wanted and what made him happy."

"Ghostfacing made him happy," Ed says, although now that he thinks about it, he's not entirely sure that's true. It's quite possible that Corbett was only into it because of Ed. He should probably ask him that, too.

After a long silence, Corbett's father finally speaks again. "He—he talked about you a lot," Rick says gruffly. "He really liked you."

"I really liked him," Ed answers back honestly. "Sir, I'm really sorry this happened. And I know you want to blame me and if you need to, okay. But I promise you, I would've stopped him if I had known. I wouldn't have ever let anything happen to him on purpose."

Another long silence, then Rick nods. "I believe you."

Ed exhales a long sigh of relief while simultaneously trying to look as though it never occurred to him that they wouldn't.

"So is that really what you were doing?" Sarah asks. "Every time Alan said he was going Ghostfacing?"

"What do you mean?"

"He told us he was going Ghostfacing that night, and you told us that the two of you spent the night together. Is that what you always did? Because I don't know why Alan would feel the need to speak in some sort of code. We were always okay with it."

"Not—not always."

"Because he was always asking for money to spend on Ghostfacing equipment. So I'm just wondering what he was really spending it on."

"No, we actually did go Ghostfacing a lot. That time we just...um. Got caught up in the moment. Of things. With each other."

He tries to shrug sheepishly, but he's not sure how well that comes off.

"So what did you do when you were actually Ghostfacing?"

"We...we faced ghosts?" He means it as a statement, but it comes out as a question, and then he can't exactly take it back from thin air.

"Right," Rick says, and his voice is just a little patronizing now. It takes Ed a second to connect the dots between that and Corbett saying his parents were over-indulgent, but then he remembers that they never actually believed in what Corbett was doing. They just let him do it because it made him happy, presumably since it allowed the two of them to spend time together.

"We—we mostly just wandered around empty houses," he says finally. "We had these EMF readers. Mostly they beep when you get around an exposed wire. It's—" He swallows roughly in preparation of the lie. "I'm not proud of it, but I liked pairing off with him because if he got scared, he'd grab onto me. Hold me real close. It was...bonding." He rubs at the back of his neck and stares down at his dinner plate hard enough to bore through it. "I don't think he ever really believed in it. I think he did it for the same reason. I wanted him to grab me and he wanted to grab. So it was just...some stupid game we played."

"Why would you need to do that if you were together?" Sarah asks, and Ed's mind races to try to come up with an explanation. He wishes Corbett were here, because Corbett would know what to say, but Corbett can't be here, so that leaves Ed.

"It started before we got together," he blurts out. "I guess—I guess he had a crush on me, so he joined the team, and I had a crush on him so as leader, I'd pair us together, and—and one thing lead to another and one night, we got so scared that we ended up kissing." He shrugs, hoping to God that Corbett never told them how the two of them 'got together.'

Rick nods, and Ed feels the relief wash over him in waves until he notices Sarah watching him carefully.

"There were five of us. Me, Harry, Spruce, Alan, and Maggie. Maggie's my sister and Harry's my best friend. We all had a lot of fun together."

"Alan told me once that Harry didn't like him."

"H—Harry doesn't like anyone," Ed lies.

"Alan said he was jealous."

Ed shakes his head quickly. "No. No, not—not like you're thinking. Harry's dating my sister. He just—he thought it was bad or the team for two of us to be dating."

"And yet, he's dating your sister?"

"Harry's logic is flawed, but intense," Ed promises. "And—and I guess maybe he was a little jealous. It's hard when your best friend starts seeing someone. You feel like you're losing them because you're not the most important person to them anymore. So—so you get mad at who they're dating because you can't get mad at your friend for being with them. It's nothing. Harry liked him, I think. Deep down."

He twists his hands together and tries very, very hard not to over-identify with his own lie. He fails.

"Anyway. That was pretty much it. It was just some stupid game we all played."

"Alan took it very seriously," Sarah says. "He sunk a good bit of his trust fund into equipment for your game."

"Well, he's...passionate."

He catches himself then, taking about Corbett in the present tense while his parents are in past. But he _is_ present—Ed's present. Their past.

The silence hangs until Ed feels like it's pressing in on him from all sides. He blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, just to stop the quiet.

"It wasn't about the money," he says. "Me and him. It wasn't because of that. I didn't even know he had any until one day I was telling him that we needed a new laptop and Harry and I couldn't afford it. He came back the next day with a brand new one. I thought he'd...I don't know, sold plasma or something. I didn't know he was actually rich until he bought us a new infrared camera and I had to tell him that while effort was appreciated, we didn't want him selling himself just to pay for our hobby."

Rick's face twists in pain, and Ed hates himself for that. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sarah, on the other hand, has a small, sad smile on her face.

"You know, the way he talked about you sometimes, I think he might've actually done that if he thought it would help you."

Considering that the guy came back from the literal fucking dead for him, yeah. Ed thinks that sounds about right.

"I wouldn't have ever asked him to," Ed says uselessly. "Um. Listen, dinner has been great, and it was very nice to meet you, Mr. Corbett. And it was nice to see you again, too, ma'am. But I should probably get going. You said you wanted me to tell you about Ghostfacing because Alan never did, and—and I have. But there's not much else I can tell you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about what happened, I'm sorry I never met you before, and I'm sorry I can't be more help to you now. But—but this is a family thing and—"

Rick catches his wrist and his grip is so like his son's, minus the sparks, that for a moment, it takes Ed aback. Then Rick says, almost fiercely, "And part of his family is you. He cared for you, you cared for him, that makes you his family."

Ed wishes he could put a megaphone up by his forehead so the two of them could hear his thoughts. If they could hear the constant litany of _shitshitshit_ going on in his head right now, they might let him go without another word. But they can't hear, so he has to find a way to voice it without breaking their hearts.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I wish I—I wish I could handle this. But I can't. I need to go home."

"Let him go, dear," Sarah says. "He doesn't owe us anything."

God, but he does. He owes them and he owes Corbett and then he remembers the thing Corbett wanted him to do before he left.

He stands, hugs her, and apologizes again and again as he backs out of the room.

He hits the hallway and starts running, only stopping when he gets to the van. He passed Bradley somewhere along the way but he ignored him and kept running.

He speeds the entire way back to his house, and climbs down out of the driver's seat with shaking knees. He's halfway to the garage when Harry steps out of the bushes—actually, literally, steps out of the bushes and says his name all low and scary like in so many bad horror movies.

"Ed," he says, "I need to talk to you."

Ed jumps and clutches at his chest, trying to catch his breath, cursing the names of several deities as he goes. When he's finally done, he motions for Harry to speak, since clearly, he's been waiting to say his piece.

"Ed, I got you something," Harry says without preamble, and thrusts a package into his hands.

"Uh. It's not my birthday."

"I know. It's—it's protection. For you. With the whole...you know, Corbett situation."

"You got me ghost condoms?"

"Those exist?" are the first words out of Harry's mouth, then an appreciable pause. "Wait. Are you doing something with him that requires them? Jesus Christ, Ed. I think that's necrophilia. I knew he was going to fuck with your head, but—"

"What? No. I'm not doing anything with him. I don't think. We're—we're touching, but—"

"Stop!" Harry holds up a hand in protest. "I don't need to hear the details of your gay ghost sex. But Maggie says he stayed in your room while you were asleep."

"Well, yeah."

"So you need protection."

"Harry, I told you, we're not having gay ghost sex!"

"No," Harry says, and tugs open the parcel in Ed's hands. " _Protection_."

Ed gapes down at the package in his hands. Inside is a shiny dagger made out of what Ed has to assume is iron. He wouldn't have guessed it at first, except that next to it is a large container of kosher salt, several shell casings, and a small handgun. He nearly drops the damn thing in shock.

"Harry. Harry, what the fuck is this?"

"Corbett's been agitated all night," Harry says.

"Well, yeah. I was visiting his parents for fuck's sake, and it hurts him when I'm not around anyway. Of course he was."

"He could kill you with his mind," Harry says. "Pull some River Tam shit. So—so just sleep with that under your pillow, okay? Just in case."

Ed thrusts the package back into Harry's hands and glares at him. "Harry," he says, and his voice is hard and hateful. "You leave him alone. You don't have to like him, but he's here now and he's not going away. So you get used to it."

"I don't care if he's here," Harry says. "But if he gets tetchy one night and decides to murder you in your sleep, I at least want you to go down fighting."

"He's not going to murder me, Harry. He loves me."

"Yeah, so he says. Maybe he's actually here for revenge for you not loving him. Ever think of that?"

"Yeah, Harry. I did. But I slept alone in my room with him all last night and the worst thing he did was look up gay porn on my laptop."

A pause. "That is pretty dastardly."

"Harry, for God's sake."

"Ed, look. How do you know you can trust him? Huh? How. You tell me and maybe I'll believe it, too."

"Because—because I just do. Because—"

 _Because when he touches me, literal sparks go up my spine,_ is what Ed wants to say, but that's a stupid and confusing thought that deserves to be kicked out of his mind for being both stupid, and also confusing.

"He saved our lives, Harry," is what he says instead. "Remember that?"

"I do. But that was when he was just a loop. Those Texas assholes said that loops weren't really ghosts, and they couldn't hurt anyone. Well, guess what? Corbett's a real ghost now. A fucking undead American and you're letting him cuddle you while you sleep. We're supposed to be against dead things, remember?"

"No. We're against evil things. And Corbett's not an evil thing, Harry. Not even a little."

"Ed, you're letting your judgement be crowded."

"By what, Harry? What the fuck am I letting crowd my judgement?"

Harry glares at him. "Don't you dare make me say it, Ed Zeddmore. You know by what. You want to be friends with him? Fine. You want to try to talk him into going into the light? Good. But you can't be alone with him while you sleep just because cuddling him makes you—makes you feel whatever it is that you two are saying it feels like. You just can't. It's stupid."

"It's not cuddling. It's just—touching. It helps. Both of us. I don't know, Harry. It's really not any of your business what Corbett and I do in my room at night."

"It is when it could get you killed."

"So if things were different. If he was still alive—"

"Then that'd be different. But he's not and it's not, Ed. You're risking your life and for what? What are you getting out of this? It's just making you feel guiltier and hate yourself more. You told me the first time we talked about it after he died that you didn't really mean what you said when you broke him out of the loop. That's what you said and I believed you. But now that he's back..."

"Say it. Fucking say it if you're going there, Harry."

"Fine. You like him. Or—or you're letting your guilt make you like him just so you can give him what he wants so he can go into the light. I don't know which it is. But it's the only thing that explains it to me, man."

Something in Ed snaps and he pushes Harry away from him, hard. "Go to Hell, Harry," he says, and storms past him into the garage.

"Go take care of your boyfriend," Ed yells at Maggie when he spots her talking to Corbett. "Make sure he didn't get any of that salt in his eyes or stab himself with anything."

Maggie looks confused, but after she takes a good look at his face, she seems to realize that Harry actually being stabbed is a possibility, and she rushes out the door he left open, slamming it behind her.

"Ed?" Corbett asks warily. He gets to his feet and blocks Ed's path to the door so fast that Ed didn't actually see him move. Fucking ghost powers. Fucking deadness. Fucking everything.

"Corbett, I can't do this right now," Ed starts to say, but Corbett grabs him.

Corbett has grabbed Ed before. Took hold of his wrist or his arm or once, hugged him. But every single time, he's been gentle and careful and sweet. This is none of those things. When Corbett grabs him this time, it's with force and it hurts and Ed cries out until Corbett softens his grip, but he still doesn't let go.

"You hugged her," Corbett says, and Ed nods breathlessly.

Corbett buries his face against Ed's neck and breathes. Being dead and all, he doesn't need to, but Ed's noticed that he still does sometimes out of habit. But this is a concentrated inhalation, sharp and right against Ed's ear. He shivers, and Corbett presses himself closer to Ed and breathes in again, this time with his nose pressed against Ed's chest.

"God," Corbett sighs, and his grip on Ed tightens for a moment before he softens it again. "Ed."

"C—Corbett?"

Ed tries to take a step towards the door, but Corbett is hanging onto him so tightly that he comes, too. Another step, and another, and Corbett is still clinging to him even as Ed opens the door.

"Corbett, please," Ed says as he glances into the house to see if his parents are anywhere in the vicinity. "You're scaring me. At least go invisible so my parents won't see you, if you won't let go of me."

Corbett disappears out of Ed's vision and he struggles through the house, past his parents, and up the stairs. If his parents notice anything strange, they don't mention it, but Ed figures he's been weird around them enough that they don't particularly care anymore.

He gets to his room and slams the door shut, and almost instantly, Corbett comes back into tangibility. He's still clinging to Ed, but now he's walking, too, pulling Ed towards the bed. For a second, Ed is terrified that Corbett is going to try to make him do something that he's not sure about. But when they land on it, Corbett just keeps clinging to him and breathing, and Ed realizes that this isn't actually about him at all.

"How were they?" he asks, and that's when Ed realizes Corbett is crying.

"They're—they're okay. Your mom's better than your dad, I think. He kept asking me questions. I think he wanted to blame me for it, but he couldn't."

Corbett nods and doesn't add anything to that line of thought, so Ed continues, "They wanted to know why you went to the house that night. What we really did when we were Ghostfacing. If it was all just a game. Your dad didn't believe in it, so I told him it was just a game we had fun with."

"Not fun at all," Corbett mutters, and tugs at Ed's shirt to pull it closer to himself.

"No," Ed agrees. "They asked me about the night you died. What happened. I said you came over and we had sex and then I went to sleep and when I woke up, you were gone. They asked me about how we got together, too. Did you ever tell them?"

Corbett shakes his head distractedly. "What was mama wearing? Did papa have on a suit? Or was he going casual?"

"She—she had on a beige dress. Cinched around the waist, sort of? I don't know what they're called. And a necklace. Really pretty."

"Gold or silver?"

"Silver. Why?"

Corbett makes a soft, pained noise and tightens his arms around Ed's neck. "Every year for Christmas, papa and I would get her jewelry. We got her other stuff, too, but we always got her at least one piece of jewelry. And he always got her gold, and I always got her silver."

Ed puts his arms around Corbett and tries not to think about how the electricity is doubled now, flowing through him so hard he thinks he might pass out.

"Your dad was wearing a light blue button-down shirt, and some dress pants. No tie."

Corbett nods. "He didn't want to impress you, then. That's a good thing, 'cause when papa tries to impress someone, it's closer to intimidate, and he didn't want to do that to you."

Ed nods. "I ran out of there. I couldn't take it. I'm sorry."

Corbett shakes his head and finally, _finally_ releases Ed enough to look up at him.

"Thank you," he says softly, and starts tugging on the hem of Ed's shirt.

"C—Corbett, what are you doing? I don't know if I can—fuck, I don't even know if _you_ can."

Corbett shushes him and tugs the shirt off over Ed's head. He shivers and tries to keep breathing because oh, God, okay, maybe the thought of this has crossed his mind briefly, like an inevitability he didn't know if he wanted to come true or not. But even the brief seconds he thought about it before pushing it down, he assumed it wouldn't be for a long, long time.

But before he can say anything more, Corbett sits up and moves to the chair he sat in the night before while Ed was asleep, clutching the shirt to him and breathing it in deep. The two of them watch each other for a long moment, then Ed reaches out, pushes up the leg of Corbett's camo pants, and presses the back of his hand against the bare skin there, just like the night before. He feels warmer instantly, and calmer, and Corbett gives him a shaky smile.

"Good night, Ed," he says, and even though it's still early, Ed finds himself falling asleep almost instantly.

***

Things are weird for the next week, or weirder in any case. Corbett is still carrying around the shirt Ed wore to meet his parents, and they still fall asleep with Ed's hand on Corbett's knee. Harry doesn't speak to him in meetings, and seems to have decided that Corbett doesn't exist. Spruce is going around with a video camera like the whole thing is some kind of supernatural Jerry Springer, and Maggie is the only one who is both talking to everyone and seems to be holding onto her sanity. Ed admires her for that, because God knows he lost his somewhere along the way.

Then Ed gets another call from Mrs. Corbett and this one makes him actually throw up as soon as he's ended the call.

"She wants me to come over and clean out your room," he says when Corbett checks up on him. "She wants me to come over there and help her empty out your bedroom and give things to Goodwill and keep things that are important to me and—Corbett, I can't. I just can't. I can't keep lying to them. And I can't go in that room."

Corbett sighs. "You're a big, brave dog, Ed Zeddmore. It's just a bedroom."

"It's your mother's dead son's bedroom. My boyfriend's."

"I know that. I know, man. But—"

"Corbett, I'm not that strong. And even if I were...you can't keep doing this to me. I'm sorry that this happened, I really am, but—but how can you keep sending me into battle knowing that I'm getting wounded every damn time? You're supposed to love me unconditionally. Remember that?"

"I do," Corbett answers, and takes Ed's hand between both of his. It's not fair and Ed tries to wrench his hand out of Corbett's grip, but he ends up accidentally knocking him under the chin as he does. He mentally prepares himself once more for the grossness of the ghost blood on his fingers, and then he blinks. There isn't any.

He stares down at his fingers in shock, then squints to peer under Corbett's chin. And what he sees there terrifies the hell out of him.

"You're not bleeding anymore," he gasps, pointing at Corbett's death wound. "Corbett, you're not fucking bleeding anymore."

Corbett frowns and crosses the room to peer into Ed's mirror. After a moment, he turns back and asks, "Maybe because I've been a ghost for awhile now?"

Ed shakes his head. "Age shouldn't have anything to do with it. And it hasn't even been a month since you died yet. Corbett, something is wrong. Something is fucked up and—and I don't know what or why."

Corbett looks, for the first time since he died, _scared_.

"Ed—Ed, we have to find out why. I can't—I can't leave you. I won't. Not again. Please, we have to find out why this is happening."

"Okay," Ed says, even though he has no idea how to do that. "Okay. We will, Corbett. We'll find out. Uh—give me a second to think. When did it start?"

"I don't know," Corbett answers. He's pacing the room in a full-on panic now, and it's a sign of how strange Ed's life has gotten lately that his hand automatically goes out for Corbett to take, so that their bare skin will be in contact.

Corbett takes it, just as automatically, and for a brief moment, Ed relaxes. In the momentary calm, the idea comes to him, and he answers Corbett's worry without letting go of his hand.

"Sam and Dean gave me their number," he says. "The next morning, as we were leaving, they told me I could call if I needed help."

He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and fishes through it, finally finding the card with their number.

"Here," he says, holding it out. "We can call them. Maybe they'll know."

Corbett nods and Ed figures there's no better time like the present, so he grabs the phone. He dials the number on the card and lets it ring three times before a gruff voice on the other end of the line picks it up.

"Singer Salvage."

That's it. No 'how can I help you?' or anything. And Ed doesn't know who Singer is and what he salvages.

"Uh, I think I have the wrong number," he says. "Sorry."

He hangs up the phone and redials, taking care to hit each number separately and distinctly. A few more rings, then, "Singer Salvage," once again.

"Uh—" Ed says. "I'm sorry. Again. I'm trying to reach Sam and Dean Winchester. Any chance you know them? They gave me this number to contact them for emergencies."

A long pause, then, "What kind of emergency?"

"Uh—uh, don't laugh, but I have this...this ghost. He's really nice, and—and he's in love with me, but he died, so now he's here, and like, the wound that killed him is...it's healing. And I'm pretty sure dead people don't heal, so...so I was hoping Sam and Dean might know what the hell was going on."

There. If he sounds crazy, fine. It's not like he knows Singer or will ever see him again. It's okay to sound insane to random wrong numbers on the phone.

"Let me get this straight," Singer says. "Your boyfriend died and came back as a ghost, and now his appearance is changing? And more importantly, those idjits gave you my phone number?"

"Um. Yes? He—he's not my boyfriend, though. He just...was in love with me. And he died, and he went into a death loop, and I got him out of it by saying that I loved him back, but I didn't, and then I told his mama that I did, and he came back, and now he's healing and I don't know what's going on and do you know Sam and Dean? Please?"

Another long pause, then, "You're lucky I'm bored, son."

"Sure. Yeah. Lucky. Great. Do you know why he's changing?"

"No. But I can probably find out. You just keep your cell phone on you. I'll call you if I find something out. In the mean time, you know how to protect yourself?"

"Yes. Iron and salt, but—but I don't think—I mean, he's very nice."

"Don't make me call you idjit, too, kid," Singer says. "Just do it."

And then the line goes dead.

Ed stares at the phone for a moment before setting it down and holding his hand out to calm Corbett down again.

"It's—it's someone else, but he seems to know Sam and Dean," he explains. "He keeps calling them 'idjits' which sounds about right. He said he'd look into it for us and call back when he finds out what's going on. But—but don't panic, okay? You're fine, Corbett. We're fine."

"Ed—Ed, what if—what if something happens? What if I stop being a ghost? What if I cross over?"

"I don't know, Corbett. Then—then I guess you'll go to heaven?"

"Or Hell. Anywhere I go without you is going to be Hell."

"That's sweet."

"I didn't say it to be sweet," Corbett insists. "Even now, just when you leave the house for an hour and I stay home, it hurts. An eternity of that? I don't know how I could survive it, Ed."

"It wouldn't be an eternity. It'd be...you know. A few decades or so. Hopefully. I want to live a good, long life, but I don't want to be like, 'back in diapers' old or anything."

"Yeah. But when you die, why the hell would you come find me?"

Ed shrugs. "I don't know. What else would I do?"

Corbett watches him for a minute, then shakes his head. "Are you going to go?"

"Where?"

"To my house to clean out my room with my mom."

"Corbett—"

"She needs it, Ed. And—and I need it. I mean, I need someone on the inside to hide my porn and—and bring me some things."

"That's why you want me to do this? To hide your porn and bring you shit? You can be invisible, man. Just float the fuck over there and take it."

Corbett sighs. "Ed, I can't go in there."

"Why? Is there salt on the windowsills or something?"

"No. I just can't. It's my home and I'm dead and my family is there and I don't know if I'll be able to resist laying down between my parents in their bed while they can't see me just to be with them for awhile. And then I won't want to leave and—look, I know myself. I have an addictive personality. All or nothing. So it has to be nothing here."

"Fine," Ed snaps. "God damn it, Corbett. Fine. But it's not fair to keep doing this to me. I want you to know that. I am doing this under protest and this doesn't feel like supposed unconditional love to me."

"Understood," Corbett nods. He squeezes Ed's hand once before he retreats. A long pause, then he says, "This is why I love you, you know."

"What?"

"That you'll do this for me. No matter how much it upsets you. That you'd do this for anyone you cared about. You're a good man, Ed Zeddmore."

A small smile twitches at the corners of Corbett's lips. "We can't tell the rest of them that I'm changing. If they notice, okay, but we can't point it out. Harry's liable to shoot me with rock salt before we even finish telling him about it."

Ed nods. "Spruce will want to make a whole episode about it."

Corbett laughs, a strange sound in the odd quiet. "He's got a cut of the ghost sex episode done. Have you seen it?"

Ed shakes his head.

"Watch it," Corbett insists. "It's hilarious."

"It's probably just a bunch of talking heads with Harry suspecting that you and me are having ether sex intercut with shots of you talking about jizzing ectoplasm."

A pause.

"Actually, yeah, that's pretty much it," Corbett agrees. "But it's hilarious in context."

Ed tries not to be over dramatic, but he has a feeling flopping down on his back to stare up at his bedroom ceiling is not erring on the side of caution.

Another laugh.

"Oh, come on," Corbett says, and then his face swims into Ed's view as he bends over Ed to peer down at him. "It's not that bad. And it's not like he can ever air It. I mean, think about what it'd do to my parents." He shrugs. "But so what if Harry thinks we're fucking?"

"I don't even know if that's possible," Ed says, because that's as good of a distraction as any.

"Me, either," Corbett agrees. "But we're not, so fuck him."

Ed closes his eyes and takes a deep, slow breath. "What do you want me to bring back for you? Besides your porn?"

"I'll make you a list," Corbett promises, and Ed just stays there, stock still, while he listens to Corbett do just that.


	3. Chapter 3

She's crying. God fucking damn it, the woman is crying and Ed is standing helplessly on the other side of the room with an armful of gay porn. He's not entirely sure how this became his life, but he hates it and he wants his old one back.

He slips the magazines into the backpack he brought while her eyes are filled with tears, hoping she's not lucid enough to see. After a moment, he decides she didn't, and he crosses the room to kneel down beside her and put his arm awkwardly around her shoulders.

"It'll—it'll be okay."

She doesn't answer that, and he knows why, because it's obvious. Her son is dead and, as far as she knows, gone forever, and anyone with anything remotely resembling a soul can tell that no, while the pain might eventually dull into a throbbing ache, it will never, ever, not once for the rest of her life, be _okay_.

"Do you want me to call your husband?" he asks after a few minutes.

She shakes her head. "No. He went out today so that he wouldn't have to be here when this was going on. No need to bring him into this."

"He—he doesn't seem to..." Ed mulls his word choice carefully before he finishes, "deal with this very head on. He keeps trying to do normal things. This isn't normal."

She shakes her head. "He was closer to Alan than I was," she says, and Ed startles because he was pretty sure that it was the other way around.

"Really? I—I didn't know that."

She nods. "We were all close, but...you know fathers and sons." She gives him a watery smile. "I'm sure you know all about that?"

"Oh. Well—I'm not really close to my parents. My sister, sort of. But not really my mom and dad."

"Did Alan not talk about his father often?"

"Oh." Right. Corbett would've told him that. "Well—you know. There wasn't a lot of time for talking."

Where the hell this comes from, Ed doesn't know, because Jesus Christ, that's the wrong fucking thing to be saying to a grieving mother.

She blinks wetly at him, and takes a slow, tearful breath. Then she asks, "Was that it? Because I know my son and it was more than that for him."

Ed turns that over and over in his mind, trying to think of a way to answer it and get out of this whole thing with his dignity and self-respect intact. But there isn't one, and he's still trying to figure it out when she takes hold of his shoulder and squeezes tightly.

"I just want to know that my son was happy and in love when it happened," she says softly. "Fulfilled. Please."

He's so used to lying to this woman that the words fall out of his mouth before he consciously decides to say them.

"He was. We were. We loved each other very much. I just meant—talking about family. Since I couldn't let him meet mine. So we talked about other things."

If she believes him or not, it doesn't really matter. She nods and releases him and goes back to clutching Corbett's pillow to her chest.

He takes that as his cue to back away and pull Corbett's list out of his pocket. Most of it is stuff that, as much as he hates Corbett for sending him here, he can't blame the guy for wanting. Pictures of his family, one of the five of them together in headquarters, and one of just the two of them. In the latter, they're sitting next to each other and Corbett is gazing at him with open adoration. Ed can read that now, now that he knows. At the time, he was smiling back, oblivious. He looks happy in the picture, though. They both do.

He asks Mrs. Corbett if he can have the pictures, but hides the ones of the Corbetts underneath the Ghostfacers. He can explain wanting to keep the Ghostfacers ones for himself. The ones of Corbett's family, not so much. She agrees, since the walls are lined with pictures of Corbett all through the house, and Ed tucks them into the backpack.

But then there are things that make the whole idea of being there worse because they're stupid and materialistic. Ed's reasonably sure that there's no sentimental value in Corbett's iPod, but he stashes that in his bag anyway because the guy asked for it. He also grabs Corbett's favorite EMF reader, and his DVD of Eating Out 2: Sloppy Seconds. He manages the iPod without Sarah seeing, and the EMF reader is so obvious that she just nods that he can have it without saying a word, but the DVD gets him a raised eyebrow, so he blurts out, "First date movie. Sentimental value."

At this rate, he thinks, he's going to end up making up the fake-fact that they were planning on having a commitment ceremony in Bermuda if he doesn't keep his fucking mouth shut.

For awhile, they work in silence. They put clothes and various items with no special significance in boxes to donate to charity, and Ed sneaks various items into his bag while Sarah cries over others. The whole thing is fucking morbid and Ed can't stand any of it.

When he's finally got everything on Corbett's list in the bag, he zips it shut and moves it to the side, out of Sarah's way. He debates whether or not he can leave, but he can't do that to her. Not now.

So he stays. He helps her pack up the rest of Corbett's bedding, which she puts into boxes and turns down his offer to wash. When he catches her smelling the pillow again, he suddenly understands why, and his throat constricts with the pain.

Then he helps her go through Corbett's clothes. She offers to let him keep anything he wants, but they're all one size too small for him to wear and Corbett doesn't exactly need them since he'll be spending eternity in camo, so those end up going to charity.

She offers him the electronics, too—TV, computer, DVD player—and he's tempted. They could use all the equipment for Ghostfacing, and he's coveting the widescreen plasma pretty hard. But somehow it feels wrong to accept the gift under the circumstances, so he thanks her but turns the offer down.

Then the room is fairly empty and the two of them are sitting side by side on the stripped down bed. For a long time, they just sit there together in the empty room, then Sarah covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob.

"Hey," he says, and awkwardly puts his arm around her. "Sarah—Sarah, it's—shh. Don't cry."

He's out of his league in so many ways, and sitting there next to her makes him feel physically ill. If she would just say something, anything, he could work with that, but she doesn't. She just sobs, full-body wracks of pain, and before he knows it, tears are running down his cheeks, too.

Eventually she stops. She has to. At some point, even the saddest person in the world runs out of tears. And then she stands, whispers, "Thank you," and sends him a small, joyless smile. Then she leaves him alone in Corbett's room and Ed grabs his bag and takes off out of the house like a bat out of Hell.

***

When Ed gets home, he doesn't really have any sort of plan in mind. He vaguely has an idea about depositing himself face-first on his bed and refusing to acknowledge his ghostly roommate, but somehow actually seeing Corbett's face re-energizes him.

Corbett looks a little better today, and it takes Ed a moment to realize it's because not only is his wound not bleeding anymore, but it's actually closed up now, with only an ugly pink scar denoting that it ever existed at all. It's unsettling on top of an already unsettling day and he throws the bag at Corbett's feet.

"There," he says. "I hope to God damn sure that your iPod was worth it, Corbett."

Corbett glances down at the bag, then steps over it towards him. Ed takes a step back to compensate, and Corbett holds up his hands in surrender.

"Ed—you know it was about more than that. My mom needed someone there. My dad couldn't, so—so I sent you. And the pictures—"

"You sent me into a fucking emotional war zone," Ed spits. "Do you realize what this is doing to me? To have to lie to her while she cries? To have to try to put myself in a place where—where all the lies I've told her are true? To mourn like I lost you when I'm around her? I already feel guilty about you dying, Corbett, and you're sending me to make nice with the people I took you from. It's gutting, you bastard."

He's so damn angry at Corbett for putting him in this position, and angry at himself for letting Corbett die to begin with. He wants to have a temper tantrum like he did when he was a little boy, but he can't, so he settles for pushing Corbett away from himself as hard as he can, palm flattening against muscle that is too strong to be contained in Corbett's body without the aid of magic.

It's a bad idea to try to strong arm a ghost. Ed realizes that when Corbett only stumbles one step back, then comes right back at him.

Ed is lifted off his feet and hits the wall above his bed before sliding down to land on it. He knows, distantly, that Corbett didn't use the full force available to him now, because if he had, Ed would've kept going right through the wall and out into the backyard. But his back feels numb with impending pain and he makes a soft whining noise when Corbett lands on top of him.

"You think I'm not angry, too?" Corbett asks. "You think it doesn't kill me that you can go see them and I can't? That you get to be there to help them and I can't comfort my own fucking parents? You think I don't hate us both for going to the Morton house that night? You think I don't regret every second of my non-existence that I went wandering off alone? Or that you couldn't just do a simple thing like love me back so that I could've moved on when I died instead of being stuck here to witness this shit? I get it, Ed. I'm the only one who fucking does."

Ed glares up at him and hates him with every fiber of his being. He hates Corbett for loving him, for getting himself killed, and for coming back. He hates Corbett for sending him to dinner at his house, and for asking him to go back there today. He hates him for ever existing in Ed's life at all, and he wants to say that. But he can't quite manage it because his blood is pumping too hard for words now. He's past the phase where his anger can be settled with talk, or with anything short of an Act of God.

So he does the only thing he can think of that will hurt Corbett as bad as he's hurting right now.

He grips Corbett by the back of the neck and hauls him down until their lips crash together painfully in what can't be called a kiss by any stretch of the definition. It hurts and Ed tastes the salty tang of his own blood, spilled from the sheer force of it. But the sick, vindictive feeling that has curled up in his gut rears its ugly head, because as painful as it was for him, he knows it's fucking killing Corbett all over again.

Corbett growls—a low, inhuman sound that sends a shiver down Ed's spine. He keeps his fingers tight around Corbett's neck even when he rears back and hisses, "Don't you fucking dare, Ed."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Ed answers back with equal venom. "Isn't that why you're still here?"

"Not like this," Corbett snaps, but Ed ignores that and tugs him down again.

"Come on, Corbett," he says. "Kiss me. Go ahead. Take what you want. Then you can get the fuck out of my life and stop trying to kill me so that you'll finally have some company. That's it, isn't it? You died so you want me dead, too? Well, go ahead. You've got me right where you want me."

He struggles against Corbett to demonstrate that he's truly pinned down by the ghost, and that Corbett could do anything he wanted to him.

The look that passes over Corbett's face is something that Ed knows he will never forget for as long—or as short—as he lives. Everything he himself feels crosses over Corbett's features in the blink of an eye, then Corbett's mouth is on his just as hard as when Ed initiated it.

He honestly wasn't expecting Corbett to do it. He was mostly bluffing because he knew it would cut Corbett deep. But now that it's happening and Corbett is making hurt, desperate noises like he can't help himself even though he really, really knows he should, Ed goes for it because actually doing this is going to hurt Corbett ten thousand times worse than just kissing him could.

And God, he wants Corbett to suffer. He wants him to be wrecked the way Ed feels wrecked, and to bleed the way Ed bleeds. So he kisses back with nothing tender or loving about it and bites on Corbett's lower lip until any human would've been bleeding.

He'll give it one thing. It's quick. No muss, no fuss, and no foreplay to speak of. Just Corbett's hand on his dick, pulling him off hard and fast.

It's electric, literally, and it feels like his cock is going to burn right off his body because of all the magic running through Corbett's touch, but somehow, the sparks feel good, too. Corbett's grip is stronger than anyone who's ever touched him before, too, and his hand moves faster, and it doesn't take Ed very long at all to come all over Corbett's hand.

His own hand is working Corbett over, too, and every move feels like a static shock. The noises Corbett makes, though, those feel like vindication. They sound broken, like Corbett's very spirit has given up, and even the part of Ed that usually remains objective when he loses his shit is quiescent now, because he knows with everything in him that Corbett brought this on himself.

When it's over, Ed briefly considers saving Harry a sample of whatever it is on his hand for the ghost sex episode, but ends up just wiping his hand clean on the sheet. He needs something to do to avoid looking up into Corbett's eyes, anyway, because the guy is still fucking on top of him with his fingers clenched in the front of Ed's shirt.

"You fucking bastard," he keeps muttering, but Ed ignores it because he could say the same thing himself.

Eventually, when he realizes Corbett isn't going to get off of him without prodding, he pushes until Corbett eventually relents and moves off of him.

He doesn't know where Corbett goes after that. He remains on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, until he's caught his breath, and when he sits up, the room is—or at least it appears to be, since when Corbett goes invisible, not even the air is disrupted—empty.

Which suits him just fine. He doesn't fucking care if Corbett stays gone at this point. He's too tired and angry to care about much of anything.

***

Singer calls the next morning, waking him up an hour before his alarm was set for work. He's groggy and sore all over when he rolls over and grabs at the phone, but the gravely voice sends his eyes flying open before he even gets past the first word.

"You're fucked," Singer says by way of opening, and somewhat hysterically, Ed blurts out, "How'd you know about that?"

A pause, then the sounds of a man who is clearly ignoring the crazy person he is talking to with every ounce of effort he possesses.

"Your Pinocchio is becoming a real boy."

"He's—what?"

"Look, this guy, he came back from the dead for you, right?"

"Yeah."

"And instead of haunting your ass for not loving him back, he just…started hanging out, taking in the local color."

"Right."

"That's some hardcore altruistic love, kid. But here's the catch. You know about motives, right?"

"Yeah, I know. Every ghost has a motive, and it's like…the rest of their personality falls away."

"Exactly," Singer says, and he sounds a little impressed. "So what's this guy's motive?"

"He—he wants me to love him back."

"No," Singer says forcefully. "No, that's not it. Think, kid. Think. What would someone who loved you selflessly want?"

"He—I don't know. That's what he said it was. He wanted me to love him back."

"Wrong. Come on, kid. It's not that hard. Get there already."

"He…wants to be with me?"

"Right. And how? If he loves you so much that he wants you to be happy, he knows you'll never be truly happy with him if he's dead, right? Can't introduce a ghost to the folks. Can't get married. Can't have a family. So if he wants to be with you, and wants you to be completely happy like that, _what's his ultimate goal_?"

"Oh, God," Ed whispers. "He—he wants to be alive. With me."

"Bingo," Singer says. "And your love is the fuel to his fire. So the more you care about him, the closer he's going to get to human. His personality's going to flesh back out. He'll get selfish and have flaws and he'll love you 'til it kills him all over again because he'll feel human. He'll never get completely there, though. He's dead and there ain't no coming back from that. But if you love him completely, as much as he loves you…when that happens, he'll be as close as he can get."

"I—then—he's already changing."

"Yeah," Singer says, "and he's going to get more and more human the more you care."

"But—I—" Ed slides down off the bed onto the floor and buries his head in his hands. "Singer," he says, "He can't. I can't. I _don't_."

"Look, kid. Your sexual confusion is your own deal. You called me looking for answers and I gave them to you. As long as he's not hurting anyone, he's your problem now. He starts killing people and you can't handle it, you call me back and I'll send a hunter your way. But as long as he's docile, this is between the two of you."

"Okay," Ed sighs. "Fine. I'll call you if he kills someone."

"You'd better," Singer says, and then the line goes dead.

Ed doesn't know if Corbett's in the room, but on the off chance that he is, he closes his eyes and says to the empty space, "Corbett, if you're here, that was Singer, the guy who knows Sam and Dean. He—he told me why you're changing. You—you lied to me, Corbett. You said you wanted me to love you back, but that's not it. You want us to be together, and you want me to be happy about it. And—and that can't happen if you're dead, so—so you're becoming human."

He leaves out the part about the fact that he's the one making Corbett change, and more specifically, why. It's private and none of Corbett's fucking business, and in any case, it makes Ed want to throw up when he thinks about it.

He drags himself to his feet and stumbles down the hall for a hot shower. Every muscle in his body is aching from the fight and the fuck, and all he wants to do is crawl back into bed and hope that the universe takes pity on him and just puts him out of his misery. No dice, though, and he can't call in at Kinko's because he's already missed enough work in the last month to put him on the brink of being fired.

He lets the hot water beat down on his back for a good half an hour, and that helps a little, but he still aims for the kitchen once he's dressed to find a bottle of aspirin to drown in.

What he finds is unpleasant, given that it's only nine in the morning. Maggie and Harry are sitting together at the kitchen table, each clutching a mug of coffee and sharing a plate of toast. Harry must've spent the night by the looks of it, and his hair is still mussed. They're turned towards each other, whispering quietly, and their knees are touching under the table. Ed's chest constricts momentarily, and his stomach turns, before he finally stumbles over to the cabinet and retrieves his prize.

"You okay?" Maggie asks when he pours at least twice the recommended dosage into his palm.

"Yeah. Just…rough night."

"Well, that's what tapping the undead will get you," Harry mutters, and Ed is far too raw this morning to take it.

He slams the bottle down on the counter so hard that pills go skittering everywhere onto the floor. Maggie freezes, like this very act hit a metaphorical pause button on her life. And Harry's up on his feet and standing between Ed and his sister before Ed has a chance to fully finish rounding on his best friend.

"Fuck you, Harry," he says. "Fuck you, all right?"

Harry stares at him for a long moment with a hard look on his face, then he softens and breathes out, "Oh, God, Ed."

"W—what?" Maggie asks tentatively. She's trapped behind Harry, but at least she's moving and talking again, so Ed no longer has to worry about how to treat a victim of shock.

"You did, didn't you?" Harry asks. "I—I mean—I didn't think you'd actually _do_ it, but you did."

"Harry—"

"He's dead, Ed. He's—he's not alive. That's—that's necrophilia, man."

Harry takes a step back, which pins Maggie against the table. She makes a noise of protest, and he allows her to wiggle out from behind him, but he keeps the distance between himself and Ed.

"No," Ed insists. "No, it's not. He's sentient, and has consciousness, and can consent, and—and I didn't do what you think I did, anyway."

"But you did something," Harry says, and it's not a question. "Jesus Christ, Ed. That's—how could you?"

"Harry," Maggie says warningly.

"I—fuck," Ed says, and shoves the pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry.

"That's disgusting," Harry tells him. "What's wrong with people that are alive? Honestly. Man, woman, I don't care, but what's wrong with someone who's actually breathing?"

"Shut your God damn mouth, Harry," Ed says for what feels like the millionth time.

"Harry, stop," Maggie says, and Ed doesn't want to know what his sister has been doing to Harry to make him so obedient when she gives that order. "Now. Harry, whatever happens between Ed and Corbett is between the two of them, okay? And he's right. Corbett is sentient and consenting, so it's fine. And Ed, Harry's just worried about you, and since you're walking around like you've been beaten up, I think he has a right to. So just answer us this, and we'll stay out of it. Did Corbett hurt you? Because if he's getting violent, then you know what we have to do. And if it's just…you know, the other thing, then we'll drop it. Harry, too."

"He—" Ed has no idea how to answer that question. Yes, Corbett hurt him. He threw him into the wall and shot sparks up his spine while they were having sex. But Ed pushed him first, and he initiated something that cut Corbett to the quick. And that's not even taking into account the things Corbett has made him do, or the fact that they're only in this mess to begin with because of Ed. He's not sure which of them is to blame, or how to begin untangling the mess of pain and confusion lying at their feet.

"He's not evil," he says finally, because it's true. Corbett's not evil, not in the slightest. He's hurtful and selfish and a lot of other things besides, most of which are the result of him regaining some of his humanity because of Ed. But he's not evil or even bad in any way that requires the Ghostfacers to know about or act on, so it's the best answer he can give her right now.

Maggie gives him a look that clearly says she sees what he did there, but she lets it pass. "Okay," she says. "Then Harry, you're going to leave him alone, okay? If he tells me you brought it up once at work, you'll be sorry."

She sounds firm, which sounds strange coming from his little sister, but Harry nods. "You still going to give me a ride to Kinko's?" he asks, which is a little presumptuous after everything he just said, but Maggie shoots Ed a look that makes him nod, so maybe he kind of understands why Harry obeys her, after all.

"Yeah," he says grudgingly. "Okay. Fine."

Harry nods. "I'm going to go take a quick shower then. I'll meet you out at the van in twenty?"

Ed murmurs his agreement and Harry takes off up the stairs, leaving Ed alone with his sister.

He doesn't look at her as he takes a seat at the table and snags the last piece of toast, chewing it slowly due to the ache in his jaw. He hadn't felt it earlier when the adrenaline of anger was rushing through him as he yelled at his best friend, but now that it's over, the pain is rushing back to the surface and God, he's never kissing anyone like that again.

Maggie watches him for a minute, then crosses the room to grab a dishcloth from a drawer under the sink. She takes an ice cube out of the freezer and wraps it in the rag, then holds it out to him after he finishes chewing.

"What?"

"Your lip is busted," she says softly. "Bruised, too. Your whole jaw is just—a mess."

Ed takes the ice from her and holds it against his lower lip as he speaks. "Maggie. It just—just happened, all right? We were both pissed and we just wanted to hurt each other."

"Corbett's not supposed to want to hurt you," Maggie says shrewdly, and Ed groans because he really shouldn't have forgotten how damn smart his sister is.

"Extenuating circumstance," he mumbles by way of response, and shrugs. "It's not going to happen again. Violently or otherwise. It shouldn't have happened the first time. I'm sorry. Can we just—I just want to forget it happened."

Maggie watches him carefully for a long moment, then nods reluctantly. "If that's what you want," she says. "But…Ed. Look, I don't know why it happened, or how, or what's really going on between the two of you. But what Harry said about necrophilia—it's not. And no one cares about him being a guy. So if you did want to go for it…just don't let those hang-ups stop you."

Ed laughs because as perceptive as his sister may be, and as smart as she is, she couldn't be more wrong on this account.

"It's not about that," he says. "Believe me. This has nothing to do with him being a dead man."

"All right," she says, agreeably enough. "I'll talk to Harry again later, when he's feeling more…" A small smile curls the corners of her lips. " _Agreeable_ ," she finishes, and Ed winces.

"Ew," he says, and she laughs.

"Compared to what you're up to, I'm vanilla. I'm boring," she says. "Don't 'ew' me. Or yourself. Don't 'ew' anyone."

Ed shrugs. He doesn't feel like debating the ethical issues of sleeping with a ghost, and he especially doesn't want to think about what his sister may or may not do to make Harry agreeable.

"Thanks for the ice," he says instead. "It helped."

He wrings the wet cloth out in the sink and puts it with the other dishtowels and rags that need washed. "Tell Harry I'm waiting in the van when he's ready," he says, and heads out to the driveway.

It's quiet and peaceful alone in the van while he waits for Harry to show up, so it would just figure that Corbett suddenly appears out of thin air in the passenger's seat.

"Jesus." Ed jumps. "Warn a guy before you do that."

Corbett shrugs. "I heard you this morning. What Singer said. So I'm like…what? Un-dying on the off chance that you'll let me be with you?"

"Something like that."

"Fuck. What a waste of perfectly good metaphysics."

"Huh?"

"It's not going to happen," Corbett says. "The you and me thing. Last night pretty much proved that. You'll never love me, will you?"

For half a second, Ed considers telling Corbett that part of him must be at least on the way there, since Corbett is already changing. But he can't bring himself to give up that secret just yet. He's not ready, and he's still pretty pissed about the whole thing, and the pressure of it is too enormous.

Instead, he asks, "Why'd you go off by yourself that night?"

He never thought to ask it until the Corbetts asked him, and it's been heavy on his mind ever since.

"At the Morton house?"

"Yeah. We were all there at base camp, and we were talking, and the next thing we knew, you weren't there. Why'd you wander off?"

Corbett looks thoughtful for a long time, before he finally answers, "A lot of reasons. I wanted to impress you. I wanted to be a full Ghostfacer instead of just an intern. I wanted to prove to myself that I was brave enough to do it. When you're a trust fund kid…Ed, everything in my life came easy. The big things, at least. But people thought that's all I was. That I didn't know how to take care of myself, or that I wasn't competent at anything, or—or just because I'd been handed money, I was too spoiled and precious to be risky or get dirty. And add on the fact that I was just an intern to you guys…I wanted to show myself that everyone was wrong. That I could be brave. And I wanted to show you guys, too. And I wanted you to see it, because I thought—I thought maybe if you saw me the way I wanted to be seen, you'd love me, too. It was a lot of stuff, Ed. It wasn't just you. Hell, you weren't even the biggest reason. It was my own issue, really. It was stupid, but it was my stupid. Not yours."

Ed nods. "I'm not sorry about last night. I know you want me to be, but I'm not."

"I am," Corbett admits, and Ed nods again.

"Harry guessed it," Ed tells him. "And Maggie."

"I know. I heard. I—I couldn't leave you. It was like...it hurt to be around you, but it hurt even worse to leave. So I just stayed invisible and tried not to look at you."

Ed laughs, because the whole thing is ridiculous and insane.

"Harry's a dick," Corbett says flatly.

"Yeah," Ed agrees. "But…it's what he does. It's why he's our tactical and logistics guy. Because he can look at shit and see the truth of it. And sometimes—sometimes he's just a dick, but usually? He's a dick with a point."

"Do you think he has a point this time?" Corbett asks, but Ed is saved by having to answer that by Harry himself opening the front door of the house. Corbett immediately goes invisible, and then the two of them are treated to the sight of Maggie tugging Harry back towards the doorway by a fistful of his shirt and kissing him soundly goodbye. Ed averts his eyes, but he can hear Corbett chuckling.

Finally, the door opens and Harry climbs in. Ed hopes Corbett has already moved to the back, but he hears no complaint from either of them when Harry sits down, so he has to assume that he did.

Ed starts the van and pulls them onto the road wordlessly, so for awhile, things are quiet in the van. Then Harry takes a deep, shaky breath.

"Ed, I—I'm sorry."

Ed nearly drives off the road, that's how damn shocked he is to actually get an apology from Harry.

"Oh," he says, but it's mostly surprise rather than a response.

"Look, I—I don't care if you're gay. And—and I'll get used to the whole dead guy thing. I think. I just…don't want you to get hurt, man. You're my best friend and if you get toasted by an undead American, then it's my fault because I could've stopped it."

"Harry, can we just…not talk about it?"

"Why? I can handle it. You can tell me about getting plowed. I am an educated man who is comfortable with his sexuality. I am enlightened about things like this."

"You're really not."

"Okay, but it's fair. I used to tell you about what me and my girlfriend did. At least until you found out I was talking about Maggie."

Ed freezes, hands gripping the wheel tightly. "That was—that was Maggie? In the park?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm a playa, but I'm monogamous about it."

"And in the ladies' room at the mall?"

"That was a good one," Harry says, far too reminiscently.

"And on her kitchen table? That was Maggie, too?"

"Well, no one was home."

"Harry, I eat there! My parents eat there! Jesus Christ, you sick bastard."

"Hey, I'm trying to build a bridge here, man. So how about neither of us calls the other a sick bastard. Agreed?"

"Harry—"

"Ed, come on. You're my best friend. I'm sorry. I won't say anything about it anymore. The two of you can have acrobatic soul sex or whatever it is you get up to, since you won't talk about it, and I won't say a word. I just worry about you, but I trust you. So can we please be friends again? You fuck a ghost, I fuck your sister. We both do things the other doesn't really like. Let's just…be friends again."

Ed wants to argue again, to tell Harry that they don't do what he thinks they do, and that Ed's not sure they ever will—or that he wants to—but he's said it all before and Harry never believes him. The argument is getting old, and he's tired of having it.

So he nods and Harry launches into a long-winded rant about how this makes them both very mature and their friendship is on the epic level of that of Han Solo and Luke Skywalker, but Ed only half pays attention. He appreciates the effort, and he'll thank Maggie later because he knows it's mostly her doing.

But he's still aching all over and trying very hard not to think about the fact that he got laid last night in the worst—and most confusing—way possible.

And no, he will never scrub his mind clean of the stories Harry told him before he found out that the girl starring in them was Maggie. But he does appreciate the attempt.

He thinks he's getting away with it until they climb out of the van to head into work and Harry grabs his arm to stop him from going inside.

"Ed? Hey. Look, if you're still mad at me, say so. Don't ignore me, man. I'm trying to make it up to you."

"I'm not ignoring you. I'm just…preoccupied."

"Why? What with?"

Ed shrugs. "The whole…thing. I don't know. It follows me everywhere, you know?"

Harry looks around them, as though he expects to see Corbett there in the parking lot. Which isn't actually too far off base.

"Is he here?" Harry whispers. "Like, right now?"

Ed considers lying, but in the spirit of their newly repaired friendship, he decides to just tell Harry the truth.

"Yes. He's invisible. He's been coming with us to work ever since he showed up."

"So—so he's been in the van all those times? He heard what I said?"

Ed nods. "It hurts him to be away from me, Harry. I had to let him come."

Harry looks around them, then asks, "Where is he? Point me in his direction."

"How the hell should I know? He's invisible, dude."

"To you, too?" Harry asks, and Ed is taken aback by how confused Harry sounds about that, like there's no possible way he can conceive of this fact.

"Well…yeah. Why wouldn't he be?"

"Because it's you. Everything about the two of you is different than him and the rest of us. You're pretty immune to his powers. Or at least they affect you differently. I figured you'd be able to see him even when he's invisible."

"No. I can't. I mean, yeah, there's some special stuff, but it's not like everything is. And it's not like everything's designed to make it easier for me and him, either."

"Spruce owes me five bucks then," Harry says, frighteningly smug.

"What for?"

"He bet me that all Corbett's ghost powers would be designed to get you into bed. Like he'd have the power of seduction, and then his cock would be magic so it wouldn't hurt when he was plowing you, and—"

"Oh my God, Harry," Ed says, and actually does a face plant against the side of the van. Such is his frustration, that he has to head-van in lieu of a desk.

"What? I'm just sayin', getting plowed by someone with ghost strength? That's gotta be painful. So Spruce figures it's some kind of magic in Corbett's dick, but I bet him that it wasn't, 'cause I figured that the magic wouldn't work like that, because he wants you to really love him, so since he's a ghost and doesn't have human flaws, that's the baggage you have to get over to prove that you love him. I figure if you'll take a dicking at full-strength with no magic to make it better, then he'll know you really love him back. So now Spruce owes me five bucks, if the magic doesn't make it easier for you guys."

"Harry…" Ed says slowly. "How much, exactly, have the three of you talked about this?"

"Well…I mean…it came up. We were working on the ghost sex episode. We had to do interviews about it. And some of the things Corbett said gave us shit to talk about while we edited it. I mean…it's interesting."

"It's really not."

"Ed," Harry says, shaking his head. He puts his hand on Ed's shoulder and squeezes. "Come on, it's not like we don't know what you're doing. What else are we going to talk about? We're bored. You won't let us go on a hunt ever since he died. We are Ghostfacers who can't face. So we talk about how the two of you get it on. It passes the time."

"That is not a 'pass the time' kind of topic, Harry. A 'pass the time' topic is the weather, or traffic. A 'pass the time' topic is not how Corbett and I have sex. Especially when we're not even having sex."

"You are so," Harry says. "You admitted it earlier. Don't be evasive. It's not a big deal."

"Just this morning, you were freaking out about this."

"Yes, well. Maggie made me see the error of my ways. She's very convincing when she wants to be. It's hard to argue with her when she joins you in the middle of your shower."

"Harry!"

"Sorry. Just…look, it's interesting, okay? You have to see that. The mechanics of the whole thing are mind boggling. He could snap you in half while he's bending you in half."

"He doesn't!"

"Is he telling the truth, Corbett?" Harry asks a spot over Ed's shoulder. Ed turns to see if Corbett has appeared behind him, but then he realizes that Harry is just asking the air around them in general.

It's a little creepy when Corbett's disembodied voice answers back, "Mostly. We didn't get past jerking each other off."

His voice is dispassionate when he says it, and Ed knows it's because he's given up hope of them ever having anything more. Hell, if he had hoped for it before, Ed's pretty sure he'd have lost his hope, too. After what they did to each other, he doesn't know how to salvage any of it.

But he's glad that Corbett doesn't share that with Harry. Because he's not ready to tell anyone what he did yet, and he's not sure he ever will be. It was one of the lowest things he's ever done to anyone and he's still reasonably sure that Corbett deserved every minute of it.

Harry frowns. "So…you're not just being defensive? You're really not plowing each other?"

"No, Harry."

"Oh. Then I owe Maggie the five that Spruce owes me."

"You bet on—you know what? Never mind. I don't want to know."

He turns and heads into the store, Harry trailing on his heel and Corbett presumably somewhere behind. He tries to block out Harry's constant questions—"Can you sense him like he can sense you? Does it hurt you when he's not around? Can you feel his emotions or can he feel yours?"—but it's hard to ignore a persistent Harry. Maybe this is why his sister is dating the guy. Maybe Harry hounded her for a date until she finally said yes just to get him to shut up. He couldn't blame her if that was the case.

"Harry," he says finally, after Harry has ignored three customers in order to keep asking wholly inappropriate—not to mention bizarre, if one doesn't know about the supernatural—questions.

"Hmm?"

"Look, you have got to stop, okay? If you're that interested, maybe I'll answer some of this stuff later, at home. But we're at work and people can't know about him, all right? So keep it quiet for now. And no, I will not tell you how him jerking me off compares to a violet wand on my dick because I have never used one and don't, in fact, know what it is. And don't you dare tell me because there are lines, man, and I don't want to know whatever you and my sister are doing with whatever it is that they are."

Harry shrugs. "Fine. But I want answers."

Ed waves him off because honestly, some of Harry's questions are actually good, and he'd like to know the answers, too. But he doesn't yet, and he can't imagine how Corbett would know most of them if Ed doesn't, and the idea of calling Singer again for advice is simply not an option.

So he goes back to work and if a spark of electricity so blindingly perfect that he gets half-hard in his pants shoots up his spine when he accidentally bumps into thin air, then that's just par for the course.


	4. Chapter 4

When they get home that evening, Ed convinces Harry to delay his interrogation for one more day, saying that he and Corbett need time alone. Harry makes an exaggerated speech about approving of this, which Ed knows is mostly for Maggie's benefit, and then the two of them head up to his bedroom alone.

Corbett doesn't show himself until the door is shut behind him, but when he does, he's sitting on Ed's bed with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. The blood on his face and chest has faded away sometime during the day when Ed couldn't see him, and Ed shivers.

"Look, about last night—" Ed starts, and Corbett shrugs.

"You don't like me that way, you were just upset, it's my fault because I'm trying to convert you…whatever it is, I'm just sorry about throwing you. I—I kind of lost it, and I don't really know my own strength yet, and I know that's no excuse, but I'm sorry."

Ed waves a hand and sits down, trying not to wince when his back protests. He mimics Corbett's position beside him, with their shoulders touching. The magic courses through him, and he shudders at the first contact. After a moment, it eases, or maybe he just gets used to it, and it trails off into a dull tingle.

"I—I don't know if I'm sorry or not," Ed says honestly. "I was pissed. I did something about it. I feel a little better now."

"I get that."

"I'm not going back to your parents' anymore," Ed adds. "I just…can't."

"I know. I won't ask you to."

Without thinking about it, Ed rests his head against Corbett's shoulder and exhales a long breath.

"Corbett," he sighs. "I don't know what the fuck we're doing."

"Me either," Corbett admits.

Ed tilts his head up to try to read the look on Corbett's face, and for a moment, he almost blurts out why Corbett is slowly changing. But it's still too soon for him to say it, so he looks away quickly and holds his hand out instead.

Corbett takes it and instantly, the tingling sensation increases. It's addictive and Ed wonders if this is part of Corbett's ghost powers that he's supposed to be using to woo Ed into bed with. It's like the best mixture of pleasure and pain—it doesn't hurt exactly, but it's sharp and it's overwhelming.

"Corbett," Ed says, but doesn't know where to go with it, so he leaves it hanging in the air between them. After a moment, Corbett tilts his head down to meet Ed's and presses their mouths together.

It's better than the night before. Softer. His lip doesn't bleed. It's almost chaste, comparatively speaking, and Ed lets out a huff of breath he didn't realize he was holding when his brain catches up to it.

After a moment, Corbett pulls back and says, "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay," Ed says, because it was and it is. He doesn't know if it will be, but in the past and present, it's true enough.

He's not sure what he wants to happen, or what he expects will, but he doesn't even get a smile out of Corbett, which is a little upsetting.

"I—what?" Ed asks. "Isn't that—that's good, right?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Depends on why you said it, I guess."

"Because it's—it's okay."

"Okay, like, 'But don't do it again,' or okay like, 'Yeah, I'm feeling this, too?'"

"It's—I don't know. I—I think I am."

"Yeah?" Corbett asks, but he's still not smiling.

"Yeah. Kind of. Maybe."

"You're confused," Corbett says. "That's—that's not okay."

"Corbett, what do you want me to say? You kissed me. I wanted you to. I want you to do it again. Isn't that enough?"

"Ed, I can't—I can't have a repeat of last night. If I wasn't dead already, it would've killed me. I can't take any more of this confusion crap."

"This isn't like last night, Corbett. Last night was—I don't know. It was necessary. But I don't want a repeat performance of that any more than you do."

The look in Corbett's eyes is so scared that Ed has flashbacks to the night he died. It's the way Corbett looked at him when he finally snapped out of his loop, the hopeless adoration combined with terror and sadness. He can't take looking at it so he pulls Corbett to him and presses their foreheads together.

"I don't know how I feel," Ed tells him. "Everything is—it's confusing and weird and this is not where I saw my life heading the night we went into that house. But I'm here now, Corbett. And you're here. And I want to be kissing you. So can't we just do that and see what happens?"

Corbett doesn't answer with words, but he does close the distance between their mouths.

Kissing Corbett is a little like receiving a static electricity shock over and over on his lips. It should hurt or at least get annoying, but it somehow doesn't. It just feels good, better than kissing any human Ed's ever kissed. He sighs and parts his lips for Corbett, groaning when their tongues connect. The saliva in their mouths somehow seems to act as a conductor for the magic and Ed's entire head is buzzing with it.

He pulls Corbett closer and shifts, letting himself fall onto his back so that Corbett lands on top of him. This is better, he thinks, because now Corbett is pressed against him in all the right places. The angle of the kiss is better, too, and Ed threads his fingers into Corbett's hair.

How long they stay like that, Ed doesn't know. He keeps waiting for Corbett to take it further, but Corbett seems to be waiting for the same from him. But Ed doesn't know what he wants.

No, that's a lie. He knows what he wants. He wants Corbett to take charge and show him what they can do.

He's supposed to be the leader of the Ghostfacers but all he wants right now is to be a follower in Corbett's wake. He wants to be guided and taught and he wants Corbett to touch him just as much as he's wanted anything he can think of in recent memory.

But he doesn't press it. He just kisses Corbett until he's so sleepy he can't think straight, and then he falls asleep with Corbett wrapped around him. The electric buzz lulls him into sleep easily and Ed can't help but think that the whole thing is way more comfortable than he'd have guessed it would be.

***

Ed doesn't want to think too hard about defining exactly what is going on between him and Corbett. It's a thing, and it's happening, and he's not going to poke at it too roughly because doing that tends to lead only to bad things spilling out.

The trouble is, he seems to be the only one taking this view. Harry, for instance, starts asking questions the second he sees Ed walk into the garage the next evening. Corbett is still invisible from the trek through the house, but anyone who's paying enough attention—and God knows Harry is all about the paying attention these days—could see that Ed's fingers are threaded around something as they hang in mid-air. Then Corbett appears beside him and Harry's eyes go from vaguely bemused to smug in an instant.

"Well," he says, "this is interesting."

"No, it's not," Ed says firmly. "Drop it."

"No can do, my friend," Harry answers. He kicks back in his chair, propping his feet up on one of the tables. "You promised me answers today if I left you alone last night. And now I can see why you wanted me to. Nice hickey, by the way. Didn't know ghosts could give those."

"Harry, it's—"

"Not what I think? Don't even try it."

Corbett's hand relaxes in Ed's grip and Ed can feel him start to pull away. He knows without asking that Corbett is pulling away so that Ed can deny it, can say they didn't do exactly what they did. But he's tired of lying to people. All he's done for the last month is lie and it's exhausting trying to keep all the stories straight.

"No, it's what you think. We spent the entire night in my room making out. It was nice. It's just that there are some things my sister does not need to know, so your questions can wait until later when she doesn't have to be subjected to them. Bad enough I have to hear about the two of you. She doesn't need to hear about the two of us."

"I'm with Ed," Maggie agrees. "But I do want the Cliffs Notes version now. You happy?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Then that's all I need to hear. That is a ridiculously big hickey, though. I mean…wow, Ed. That's a slut-sized hickey."

Ed hears the distant whir of a camera zoom, and sure enough, Spruce is in the far corner with his camera pointed at Ed's neck.

"Will you stop?" he asks, and the rest of them laugh.

And that breaks the tension that built inside him after they walked in. He relaxes and settles down into his chair with Corbett beside him, and it's just all too easy. Everything with Corbett has been complicated and strange and it's hurt like hell. He welcomes the change gladly, but he can't help but wonder just how long this easiness will hold out.

***

Ed's more than a little nervous when they go back to his bedroom that night. After working so hard to lose his virginity, it's like he suddenly has it all back again. He has no idea what he's doing, or how to work with the complicated parts put in front of him, or what those parts are even capable of. He thought the fact that they were both guys might help, that he could take what he himself likes and extrapolate it.

But the thing is, he's figured out that every human guy is different and Corbett isn't even human, so there's not much to be gained from it.

And he still wants Corbett to take charge. Whether this is about feeling out of control or just the simple fact that Corbett knows more about this, Ed doesn't know. He doesn't even really care about the answer. He just wants it.

He sits down on his bed and pats the spot beside him, as though Corbett needed the invitation. He's been sleeping in this bed, for God's sake—or, rather, Ed's been sleeping and Corbett's been curled up around him all night.

Corbett sits and their shoulders bump while they sit companionably in silence. This is nice, too—sometimes, he feels like they're having entire conversations when they sit in silence, like just being together with their hands touching communicates volumes neither of them could ever put words to.

But they always end up kissing—slow and sweet while Ed runs his fingers over Corbett's cheek. When they break to let Ed catch his breath, Corbett keeps going, kissing his neck and nudging along Ed's jaw line with his nose. Ed chuckles breathlessly and teases Corbett about having a beard fetish, and then Corbett laughs, too.

The room is quiet, which Ed always finds strange since Corbett's touch is electric and Ed always expects to hear the crackling of it when their skin is in contact. But it's not electricity, as much as it feels like it, and the magic is silent and erotic.

It took a few days of this for Corbett to finally pin Ed to the bed and rock against him over and over until they both came in their pants. That was good—great, even, and more than anything else, Ed really liked being under Corbett's strong, powerful body.

But his skin is itching now, on fire with the knowledge that there's more. What exactly he wants that more to be, he's not sure yet, but he knows it involves taking their clothes off.

He reaches for the hem of Corbett's shirt and tugs until Corbett leans back enough to catch his eye. He raises his eyebrow and the silent question makes Ed surge up against him and kiss him hard, willing him to not think or ask too many questions. He doesn't have the answers for those questions and now isn't the time to be thinking about them.

It distracts Corbett enough for Ed to get the shirt off and throw it to the floor. He slides his hands down Corbett's bare back and then, quite suddenly, it's no longer bare.

The shirt comes back. The fucking shirt fucking comes back just when Ed was getting somewhere.

He freezes. "Did you do that?"

Corbett glances down at his own chest and shakes his head. "No. Uh, try again?"

So Ed does, and once again, the shirt reappears on Corbett's body. He groans in frustration and tests, seeing if distance from Corbett's body matters, but no, any time the shirt stops touching Corbett's skin, it reappears back on him.

"What's going on?" he asks, and Corbett shrugs.

"Maybe…maybe because I'm the battery for the magic that keeps it here? It has to be touching me to be part of the circuit?"

"So…what, I can't see you naked?"

Corbett looks relieved. "Maybe. I guess. But it's okay. Like I said, we can both just keep out clothes on and—"

Ed tugs the shirt again, this time pulling it up off of Corbett's arms but leaving it around his neck. He tucks the shirt behind Corbett's back and bends to attach his mouth to one of Corbett's nipples. Corbett groans and Ed tugs it gently between his teeth, and that effectively shuts up that argument again.

He's not strong enough to roll Corbett over unless Corbett wants to be rolled, though he would've been when Corbett were still alive. Luckily for him, Corbett is too turned on now to protest.

He lets Ed roll him over, the shirt clutching too tightly around his neck when he lays down on it. He doesn't seem to notice, since he doesn't have to breathe, or maybe just because he's focused on pulling Ed's shirt off instead.

Their bodies align, so damn fitting, and Ed groans low in his throat. Just this, just having Corbett's chest pressed against his…it's enough to make him ache to come. Ed doesn't think he's that bad when it comes to stamina, but it's not really his fault. Yes, Corbett's got a nice chest, and yes, it feels amazing pressed against Ed's. But it's more than that. The electricity that flows through him is more than he's ever felt before because of the sheer amount of bare skin they have touching. His entire chest burns with the hum of the magic and he rocks down hard against Corbett's hip to get friction on his cock.

He fumbles hurriedly with the button on Corbett's pants, pausing only when Corbett's hand closes tight around his wrist. He doesn't say stop, but his eyes beg for it, and Ed shakes his head.

"It's okay," he says. "I swear."

"You don't like cock," Corbett answers, and Ed presses a kiss to his chest.

"I like you," he says, not even caring if it's corny. He does like Corbett, and he likes the things they do, and he's pretty sure he's going to like what he has planned, too.

He tugs Corbett's jeans down his hips, careful to leave them hooked around one ankle. He can spread Corbett's thighs like this and lick little bites and kisses into his inner thigh. Corbett whines and spreads them further, and Ed takes a steadying breath before he does what he's been wanting to do for over a week.

He wraps his lips around the head of Corbett's cock and sucks, letting his tongue press against the slit.

The noise Corbett makes in response to that is a little scary. It's a low, rumbling moan that reminds Ed of just how strong Corbett is. He shivers, just a little, and runs his thumbs along the dips of Corbett's thighs.

It is, Ed thinks, rather like licking a battery. A sharp charge dancing across his tongue and a bitter taste filling his mouth. But Corbett's moaning and saying his name over and over like Ed's his savior, and Ed would be lying if he said he didn't love that feeling.

Corbett comes not long after that, and Ed can feel the come sliding down his throat. It leaves behind a white-hot trail of electricity that settles in his stomach and it's so damn weird that he can barely stand it.

Corbett tugs on Ed's shoulders and pulls him up to the top of the bed like he is nothing but a rag doll. Ed groans and rocks himself against Corbett's thigh, letting himself be kissed.

Their foreheads rest together when Ed breaks the kiss for air and Corbett whispers, "You—you okay?"

Ed nods. "Yeah. Fuck. That was not ectoplasm."

Corbett laughs and kisses him again, and his eyes are fixed on Ed's mouth when he pulls away.

"Ed, what—what do you want here?"

"Right now? I don't know. I'm pretty sure if you blow me it's going to last all of half a second because it's going to be roughly akin to sticking my dick in a light socket without the pain. But I want you to, anyway." He pauses, then admits, "But…but I also want you to fuck me. Not right now, but…soon. Okay?"

Corbett's eyes flick up to meet his and Ed's stomach turns over. He's never actually admitted that even to himself, that his ultimate goal is to get Corbett's cock inside him, but there. He said it. It's out there and he can't take it back—nor does he want to.

"God," Corbett says, and then Ed is pinned to the bed while Corbett kisses him. They break apart and Corbett slides down his body, nearly whining Ed's name over and over again with desperation. Then he nudges Ed's thighs apart and settles between them.

Ed's stomach twitches nervously while Corbett sucks on one of his own fingers. He knows what that's for, but he's not ready for it yet. He doesn't know how anyone ever possibly could be, only that he wants it. He doesn't want it all tonight, and Corbett knows that, too, but he wants _this_ so he bites his lip while Corbett's finger circles around his hole, the magic making him alternately clench and relax in anticipation.

Just when Ed's ready to beg Corbett to please, God, please do it already, the finger pushes in and Corbett sucks the head of Ed's cock into his mouth.

He's better at this than Ed is, better by a long shot, and Ed's entire body trembles under it.

"Oh, God," he says, and then again for good measure. His body is thrumming with it, heart beating wildly like it's trying to escape his chest. He can't breathe and his hips are jerking of their own accord between the two sensations, and then Corbett's finger presses against his prostate.

He comes. Not even half a minute into it, he's spilling down Corbett's throat and thrashing on the bed. He's pretty sure he hears a lamp go crashing to the ground, and the sounds of feet pattering down the hallway. He's pretty sure he hears Maggie calling through the door if they're okay, and Corbett shouting back awkwardly that yes, they're fine.

Ed doesn't care. His world has boiled down to Corbett's body against him, to being touched and loved. The idea of ever moving again seems like a ridiculous notion and he pulls Corbett to him blindly, huffing out a ragged breath when Corbett lands on top of him.

This, he thinks, is what it means to fuck someone's brains out, only Corbett didn't actually fuck him. But he is undoubtedly brainless right now and when he finally forces his eyes open, he breaks out into a hysterical laugh.

"What?" Corbett asks, checking Ed over to make sure he's okay. "Ed, are you—"

"Your clothes are back on," Ed says. "I love you, so your clothes are back."

Corbett glances between them where, yes, his clothes are indeed back. But not like before, when they reappeared back where they were every time they were taken off. No, now they've changed. Gone is the camouflage, mystically traded out for one Corbett's other outfits he wore when he was alive. A green shirt with a collar and a pair of simple blue jeans. The color suits his eyes and Ed touches the side of his face fondly before kissing him.

"Ed," Corbett says, and Ed kisses him again to keep from asking about the, 'I love you.' He doesn't want to get into that now while his brain is still so fuzzy—neither the fact that he said it at all, or the fact that it is what is making Corbett change. But then Corbett breaks the kiss and finishes, "Ed, I'm scared," and Ed freezes.

"Why?"

"What's happening to me?" Corbett asks. His voice is small and his eyes are wide and Ed wraps his arms around Corbett's shoulders to help him relax.

"We talked about it with Singer, remember? That it's because you love me?"

A half-truth. Also known as a lie.

Corbett shakes his head. "Ed, this isn't right. I—I feel different. I _am_ different. We have to tell the guys about this. They need to know."

"Corbett, it's okay. You're fine."

"No, Ed. I—fuck, what if I'm getting dangerous? What if you guys have to put me down?"

Corbett moves to get up from the bed and Ed grabs him to pull him back.

"You're not an injured puppy, Corbett. You're—you're a person. You're my…something. Okay? You could never hurt anyone. It's fine."

Corbett's eyes fill with fear and he sighs, "Even if we don't tell them, they're going to know. Frankly, we're lucky they haven't noticed the rest of it until now. I guess it all happened so slow that they never registered it. But this? Fuck, I could pass for human, Ed. You could take me out in public on your arm as long as I've got this electromagnet on me and no one would even think twice."

Ed entertains a brief vision of the two of them having a normal relationship. Going on dates, seeing movies, going shopping. It's what Corbett's motive is driving them towards, and it's what Ed wants. They can't do it here, not in a town where people know who Corbett is and know he's dead, but they could move. And then they could be a real couple like anyone else. It hits him like a punch to the gut how very much he wants that.

"That's a good thing," Ed tells him. "That's a very good thing, Corbett. Relax. This is the part where we make out and bask in the post-coital glow. This is not the part where you freak out on me."

"Ed—"

Ed kisses him again, pulling him back down beside him on the bed. He slings his leg over both of Corbett's to try to hold him in place, and after a minute or two, Corbett relaxes against him and kisses back.

He's right, though. They will notice. And Ed will probably have to come clean about the whole thing when they do.

***

When they head into the next Ghostfacer meeting, Ed tries to keep Corbett hidden behind him. It's dumb, because he's only delaying what has to happen, but he's panicked and he doesn't want to have this conversation at all, much less in front of his friends.

But it's worse than he predicted because when they get there, Spruce is playing some highly pixilated footage on his camera and Ed recognizes the sound of it instantly.

"You taped us having sex?" he snaps. "Jesus Christ, Spruce!"

Maggie looks vaguely sick. Harry has his arm around her and looks for all the world like he's arguing with himself and trying to figure out if he's disgusted, ambivalent, or scared.

"It's for the show," Spruce argues. "I'm going to bleep it. It'll be very tasteful, I swear."

"Shut it off!"

Spruce frowns and hits the pause button right on a freeze frame of Ed with Corbett's dick in his mouth. He groans and snaps, "Get it off the screen. Put something else up."

"Okay, fine," Spruce says, and clicks the projector over from camera input to computer. Which is better in that it's footage from the original interviews Spruce did with Corbett about ghost sex, but a hell of a lot worse because now the difference is demonstrable and intense.

Maggie figures it out first, looking between the Corbett on the screen and the Corbett currently holding Ed's hand. Her eyes widen and she covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp.

"Ed," she says carefully, "come here, please."

"I—I'm okay where I am," he says.

"I need to show you something." A pause, then she hisses at Harry in an undertone, "Get something iron!"

"It's okay, Mags," Ed says. "It's fine, I promise. It's not what you think."

"Something's wrong with him," she says, and then Harry starts sputtering.

"He—he—and—look at the tape!"

Another second, and then Spruce catches on, too.

"Oh my God."

"Guys—"

"He changed," Harry finally spits out. "Ghosts don't do that, Ed. They're not supposed to. Someone get me the shotgun."

Spruce goes for it and on instinct, Ed grabs Corbett and pulls, spinning them until Corbett is completely behind him again. He spreads his arms outwards, only shaking a little.

"Guys, hear me out," he says, but Harry's got the gun in his hands now and it's pretty obvious that they don't intend to.

"Ed, just—just get out of the way, okay? I said I'd leave it be as long as he wasn't dangerous and now he is, so move."

"Look, I know why he's changing and it's not what you think."

"What? Like you're man-humping the humanity back into him?" Harry tilts his head back towards the camera still sitting in the middle of the room.

"I—yes. No. Not exactly."

Ed sighs. Okay. Fine. He'll say it.

"Look, it's not about the sex. I noticed Corbett was changing like…a long time ago. And I panicked. I thought—exactly what you think. So I called that number the Texas douches gave us and got some guy, Singer. He knew them, so I asked him what was going on and he told me. It's not dangerous, I swear."

"Then what is it?" Spruce asks. "If Corbett's not going to go agro on our asses, then what the hell can make a ghost change its appearance after death? They don't _do_ that, man."

Ed closes his eyes and wills himself to just spit it out. Everything about this is wrong: wrong place, wrong time, wrong that he has to say it at all. But they're his friends and they deserve the truth. More than that, they deserve to know that they're safe and have nothing to worry about.

So he tells them about Singer and what he said about Corbett's motive. He tells them that Corbett's trying to live up to what Ed needs, pun intended. And then he closes his eyes, turns to Corbett, and tells him the thing that he's been holding to his chest out of everyone's reach.

"It's because I'm falling in love with you," he whispers. "I'm what's fuelling the magic. And the more I love you, the more human you'll get."

Corbett's fingers close around his wrist and Ed takes a steadying breath against the instant dizziness he feels.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Corbett asks. "Ed, you let me think something was wrong with me."

"I told you everything," Ed says. "Except that I was the one causing it."

"Yeah, which is kind of important," Corbett says. "In fact, it's kind of the key point."

"Can we talk about this later?" Ed asks. "Please, Corbett."

Corbett shakes his head. "You did this to me. You changed me and made me live terrified ever since it first started to happen, and you could've told me why. You could've told me that it was because of something good, and that I had nothing to worry about, but you didn't."

"I wasn't ready to admit that I was in love with you," Ed snaps. "You want to talk about being changed? Living terrified? Welcome to my world since the Morton house, Corbett. It started the second you wandered off and it hasn't stopped. I was wrong and I admit that and we'll talk about it later, but for now, there's kind of something more important going on here."

Corbett shakes his head. "No, Ed. There's not."

And then he disappears. Ed reaches out blindly to make a grab for him, but there's nothing around him but air. He flails uselessly for a few moments, then turns to his friends.

"Do you need anymore proof?" he asks, and turns away without an answer to slump back up to his room.

***

He's been alone in his bedroom for two hours before there's a knock at the door. He's not used to being alone anymore, least of all in his bedroom. It's a little codependent of him and he knows he'll have to get over that, but the room feels vast and empty around him without Corbett there to fill it up.

"Go away," he sighs, and drops his head back against the wall. His hand twitches and he shakes it out unhappily. He knew he was getting addicted to Corbett's touch, but he had no idea it was this bad.

The door opens despite his dismissal, and Harry steps into the room. After a moment, he shuts the door and sits down on the edge of Ed's bed, facing away from him.

"Maggie send you?" Ed asks, still rubbing at his hand.

"No. Came on my own. Looked like you could use a friend right now."

Ed shrugs. "I guess."

"Look, Ed, I get why you kept it from us. Especially from me. I haven't exactly been the most supportive friend lately. But I'm trying, and you could've told me."

"I know."

"But we trust you. You say he's not dangerous, and we believe you. And as much as I hate those dicks from Texas, any friend of theirs knows his shit. So I believe this Singer guy, too. But what I can't believe is that you didn't tell Corbett the truth. Us, I get. But him?"

Ed sighs. "Harry…"

"You don't owe me an explanation," Harry says quickly. "The only person you owe it to is Corbett. But if you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

Ed shrugs. "I've just been…overwhelmed lately. Confused. I'm in love with a dead gay guy, Harry. I'm not even sure I'm really ready to be admitting that to myself, much less to him. And to the rest of you guys? If it weren't for the fact that you guys deserved to know he wasn't going to kill any of you, I wouldn't have said what I did. I wouldn't be saying it now."

Harry scoots further back onto the bed until he's beside Ed against the wall. He and Corbett have sat like this so many times that it's kind of a mindfuck to be doing it now.

"I'm still trying to figure it out," Ed says. "I—I don't know that you can ever really figure something like this out. And I kept telling myself that Singer was wrong, that I didn't love him, and I never would. And then he was changing and it's really hard to keep living in denial when the proof of what you're denying is staring you in the face."

A pause, then Harry asks, "Have you heard from him yet?"

Ed shakes his head. "I know this sounds stupid, but I keep trying to talk to him. Last time he hid from me, he stayed in the room because he couldn't stand to be away from me. But he wasn't as human then. Now…now I think he can't stand to be _around_ me. And—and my skin itches."

Harry raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment.

"He'll come back," he says with a confidence Ed's not sure he feels. "He loves you."

Ed's not sure what would happen if Corbett actually managed to stop loving him, or if it's even possible, so he figures that much is at least true. But he also knows that loving someone doesn't stop you from hating them, and he has a feeling that Corbett is edging towards the latter right now.

***

Two weeks later, Ed stops talking to the non-existent Corbett in his bedroom. He's not there, or if he is, he's not going to talk back. There's no point in it when all it does is leave him sitting there with his chest aching. He hasn't been away from Corbett for more than a few hours since he came back. He misses him, and not just the physical stuff—though he misses that like a mildly addicted junkie who is left without a fix.

He misses talking to him. He misses his smile. He misses sitting next to him with their shoulders brushing and not needing anything else at all because just that quiet companionship said enough. But more than that, he misses being loved. It's a little narcissistic to be complaining about that now, he knows, but he's only human. And thanks to him, so is Corbett, more or less.

But after two weeks of talking into the silence, he has to stop because that's when he realizes he has become a crazy person who talks to himself late at night.

His confidence that Corbett will come back is starting to waiver now. Doubt has started to creep in under the guise of the question, _What if he's stopped loving me?_ He's still not sure he believes that Corbett can, either just because it's hard to get over loving someone or because of the magic, but what if? If Corbett got over him, then his motive would be gone. And then what? Would be move on to the afterlife? Stay a ghost but be free of Ed forever?

These are the questions that he thinks about every night and tries to deny he's ever given any credence to at all. They make him in turns desperate to see Corbett again to know they're not true, and hopeful because maybe that means Corbett's soul is at peace. If anyone deserves peace, it's Corbett.

But he's far too selfish for the latter to take any real hold and he mostly just ends up moping because he wants his ghost boyfriend back. He is a lame, heartbroken, pathetic jerk and a thousand other hateful adjectives besides.

So he stops speaking to the empty room and promises himself he won't think about electric touches and crooked smiles.

One week later, Corbett walks into his bedroom and slams the door shut behind him.

***

When Corbett finally comes back, it's the middle of the night and Ed is having a nightmare. The sound of his bedroom door shutting startles him awake and he flicks on the lamp beside his bed to see.

Corbett is standing in his doorway, looking more or less alive. There is color in his cheeks and his eyes are bright—the hint of death that clung there after he came back is gone and has been replaced by something so real that it takes Ed's breath away.

"Corbett," he says, breathing the name with relief. He throws back the covers and sits up, rubbing at his eyes to clear the sleep. "You came back. I didn't think you would."

Corbett nods. "Wasn't sure I would either, to be honest."

The next logical question is, "Where did you go?"

There's no malice in his voice when Corbett answers, "As far away from you as I could get," but the words slice through him like a whip anyway.

"Oh."

"It felt…good," Corbett says, almost like he doesn't believe it himself. "Before when I was away from you, it hurt. It physically hurt me, Ed. But this…it was relief. I felt…I hated you. And it was so damn _freeing_."

Ed tries to keep his mouth shut, to wait it out and not blurt out the first instinctive reaction he has. But he's panicked and hurt and so damn scared that he's about to lose this that he can't help it.

"So you don't love me anymore?"

Corbett ignores that.

"I have a choice," he says instead. "I guess because I'm closer to human now, but I'm really not sure. Before when I left you, it physically hurt me. But before, you were the only thing I cared about. The only thing I _could_ care about. I was tied to you by the magic of my motive. And that was all there was to me."

"I—"

Corbett shakes his head. "But then you started to love me and I got my free will back. And when I was gone, all I could think was…I can stop loving you. I can get over you now, if I want. I don't have to stay here and be with you. The magic isn't forcing the issue anymore. For me or for you. I can love you, or I can not. Same goes for you."

"I do love you," Ed says quickly.

"I know," Corbett says gently. "But when I was out there, hating you so damn badly, I started to wonder if I still did. If I even still wanted to."

"Corbett—"

"You lied to me, Ed. What you did…it's the equivalent of someone you care about being sick and you letting them think that it's fatal when you actually know they're going to be fine. I already died once, Ed, and you let me think I might do it again. And you still haven't told me why."

"I—I wasn't ready. I was scared. A lot of reasons."

"Then tell me a few."

"Look, I…I'm out of my league with you, Corbett. This is all new to me."

"Because I'm a guy."

Ed knows Corbett wants him to say no, that's not it, he's comfortable enough with his sexuality that it doesn't bother him. But he owes Corbett the truth.

"Yeah," he says flatly. "And if you want to judge me for that, fine. I get that. But it's valid, Corbett. You've known pretty much your whole life what you wanted, but I haven't. You're a guy with guy-parts, and that's new to me. And on top of that, you're a ghost. You can throw me through a wall. You can hold me down and hurt me and do things to me that I don't want you to do. You don't, and I'm glad, but you could, and there wouldn't be a damn thing I could do about it. So you take the level of trust it takes to be in a normal relationship and you multiply it by my life, because that's what I have to trust you with. Not my heart, not my body, my entire life. And the mere fact that I _do_ trust you that much to begin with is scary as hell, too."

"I trusted you with mine."

"Yeah. And look what happened with that."

"Fine. Give me another reason."

"Because I was afraid of what would happen if I fell completely in love with you."

"We covered that already."

"No," Ed says. "We didn't. Corbett…this ghost stuff isn't exactly an exact science. We have no idea how long you're going to be here and what's going to make you go when you do. Think about it, man. You're here because I didn't love you back when you were alive. For all I know, the second I make you completely happy, you're going to go away again. And I'm selfish because I want you to be at peace, but more than that…I just want you here with me."

"I—I hadn't thought of that."

"I know. I had to, though. You don't get how much pressure this put on me, Corbett. How much responsibility. To you, to myself, to your family, to my friends…I'm the reason you're here so I'm the one that has to take the fall if something goes wrong. And I accept that responsibility but that doesn't mean I'm always ready to man up to it right away. I kept it from you because then you'd know I was the one making you change. And if something went wrong in that, then it was my fault, too. And I'm selfish because if it did, I didn't want anyone to know they should be blaming me."

Corbett sighs. "Fine. You've got the huge weight of my existence on your shoulders. I get it."

"No, you don't," Ed says, and he closes the distance between them to grip Corbett by the shoulders. He can feel the thrum of magic trapped under the protection of Corbett's shirt and his fingers twitch in anticipation of being allowed to touch Corbett's skin directly again.

"Corbett…I love you. I do. And I want you here. But the thing you forget is that I'm not like you. It's like…like you look at us—or you did before I messed up—and think, 'We love each other, so it'll all be okay,' and you throw yourself in headfirst. But I see us and go, 'Okay, we love each other, but this is never going to be easy.' So I dip a toe in and then I wade into the shallows and eventually I swim into the deep end, but I don't _dive_."

"You should."

 _Maybe_ , Ed means to say. "I miss you," is what comes out instead.

"Would you have told me? If that hadn't happened?"

"Yes." It's not a lie and there's no hesitation when he says it. He has no reason to bother with either of them anymore. "But not until I was ready."

"And when would that be?"

"I have no idea. Now, maybe. Corbett…I know I fucked up. I get it. Can I just—"

"I want to trust you again, Ed."

"I know. And I want you to."

After a moment, Corbett sighs. "Do you promise me that you'll be honest with me from now on? That I deserve that?"

"I promise. You deserve—so much."

Corbett folds his arms across his chest and it feels like some kind of stand off in a western. Ed wants to throw himself at Corbett and cling to him, looking like some kind of pathetic loser. But he doesn't. He opts to sound pathetic instead.

"Please," he says, shamelessly begging. "Corbett, I—this hurts."

Corbett catches his eye. "Having me here hurts you?"

"No. Having you be this damn far away does."

He's not talking about the magic and Corbett knows it.

Corbett watches him for a long moment, then shakes his head. He laughs, and for the first time since he walked back through the door, he sounds warm and loving, like the man Ed fell for.

Corbett closes the difference between them so fast Ed doesn't notice the movement, and then he's being kissed.

Ed thinks of a million things to say but doesn't say any of them. He's done with words and it seems like Corbett is, too.

So they kiss and their tongues connect and every damn touch is just as electric as Ed remembers. He has no idea if this will ever go away, or if it will fade to a dull throb once they get used to each other.

He also doesn't care.

They end up on the bed and Corbett's fingers slide under his shirt, pushing it up and off. It lands on the floor in a heap, and his boxers join them a little later. He thinks about what he said about trust when he's laying there like that, naked under Corbett's gaze.

Corbett whispers his name and kisses his neck, and Ed is so damn in love with this man that he feels insane. He tugs at Corbett's clothes, rearranging them until they're mostly off. He wishes he could get Corbett as truly naked as he himself is—but then, he thinks, Corbett has always been naked with him, right from the start.

And then Corbett's mouth is on him, fingers pushing inside, and Ed is writhing, gasping for air, and trying not to scream. His body is too sensitive and he doesn't know if he was always like this, or if the magic made him so. But he is, so over-eager and desperate.

"Please," he says. It's the first time he's spoken since Corbett kissed him, but it's as good of a reason as any to break the silence, he thinks.

He doesn't finish the thought, the _fuck me, fuck me, fuck me_ he hears chanting in his head like bad porn, but Corbett gets it.

Two fingers becomes three, becomes four, becomes too much lube and Corbett's cock splitting him open. It's fitting, he thinks, and he welcomes it, head falling back and eyes slipping shut while he moans Corbett's name.

The tiniest shift makes Corbett's cock brush against his prostate and it's like having the magic inside him. He falls apart before it really starts, coming until he's boneless and pliant.

That's when Corbett fucks him, slow thrusts while their tongues tangle. Ed's legs wrap around his waist and pull him deeper, as far in as he can go. His body trembles under it and he rocks his hips up, changing the angle once again. It doesn't take much to make him come again, though afterwards he knows he's officially spent.

It feels good, though, to just be fucked without the goal of another orgasm on the horizon. This, he thinks, is the difference between what he thought he wanted and what he actually needed.

He loses track of time while Corbett is inside him, only knows that Corbett comes twice himself before he finally settles himself against Ed's chest. His hips shift and Ed takes hold of them, holding them flush against him.

"Stay," he says, all connotations of the word intended.

Corbett surveys him for a moment, then decides. "Okay. I will," he says, and his softening cock brushes against Ed's prostate again. It's not enough to make him come, or to even get him hard.

But it is enough.

***

Two months later, the five of them move to L.A. to pursue television opportunities and Ed takes Corbett on their very first date. Spruce films the whole thing and makes a video montage of it set to Pilot's "Magic." Ed will never admit it to anyone, but he actually thinks it's sweet.

Then they find a new case and no one thinks twice about Corbett being a ghost anymore because he nearly isn't.

Ed thinks that might be even sweeter.


End file.
